Etro's Edict Number Nine
by azhiraz
Summary: If you ask me for something, have a care, I WILL give it to you - & if you don't like it, again, have a care - you will keep getting it until YOU get it: Never refuse what a goddess offers. An Alternate Universe story bringing together two lone wolves: Noel Kreiss & Lightning Farron. Note: Rated Mature, adult content exists. Disclaimers in chapter 1 - Its all Square Enix.
1. Chapter 1

Etro's Edict #9

_Author's notes: As always, the business of disclaimers first; there is no intent of profit intended by this story, and all Final Fantasy characters and worlds are owned by Square Enix; no credit to the author exists, except a slight nod for going 'way out of the box in creating the alternate universe scenario. _

_Speaking of universe, this is definite step or two outside of the normal Final Fantasy universe as it was written. The setting for the story is the world of Gran Pulse, but with a more futuristic city of Academia; think of it as a bustling, crowed, well developed Gotham, with its seedier side across the river, and an upper city inhabited by the upper class citizens. There is an imperial ruling class over the mini-empire; upper classes are divided into houses, usually headed by a dominant family name. The lower class imitates the upper, its crime lords also run by families, headed by a chosen member, nicknamed the kingpin. Many owned the bars, the clubs and gaming halls of the lower city, known as Oldtown. Oldtown is the older part of Academia, built close to the river's edge, and has decayed compared to the suburbia across the river and the heights of the upper city, rising a hundred stories or more above the suburbia substrata. Above all, the Fal'Cie exist, and serve the gods; consider them vessels filled with the will of the god they serve. _

_Please be warned the characters are in situations far from the normal world of Final Fantasy; some physical and personality characteristics remain, but they have been developed differently than the norm. _

_Also be aware this is rated as Mature content with good reason: There will be violence, adult situations, adult language, and adult sexual situations of a heterosexual nature. _

_Any references to lyrics will be properly credited to the sources at the beginning of each chapter. In course of writing this angsty, offbeat look at Academian affection, the muse presented several pieces of music to fuel the storyline. As always, the hidden focus of the story is love; this time between two lone wolves: Noel Kreiss & Lightning Farron. _

Prologue:

He was choking, sinking into a dark oily slick of black scales that tightened with every move, every breath; he kept his hand on the hilt of his sword, blindly hacking, but the weakening strikes just let the alloy grate harmlessly off the hard scales and the thing squeezed until his arm went numb, leaving the weapon to clatter onto the stone floor. Deep inside, he knew he was in a losing fight; he could not prolong his life a moment longer; eyelids closed over eyes as radiant of the skies of Pulse, and gasping for air he fought to say a single word: _Never._ Then he gave up the fight, sacrificing himself to the greater good. His life was ending, here, now. His brain tried to hold onto a final prayer: _Walker of the Realm Unseen__, __By grace of Etro, let thunder herald your arrival. Come forth, sunderer of falsehood.__ You died for me, the divine one_ _born of light, you were crucified and made to walk the realm of the dead, and now let me die for you. __A name in blood, a pact of truth. I shall rise your bond eternal and unyielding_...then a burgeoning blackness overtook him as the oxygen was driven out of his lungs by the crushing ebony coils.

Hissing, the creature, now enraged at being cheated of its pound of flesh, opened its maw and crashed down on the shoulder, driving fangs deep into the muscle, injecting a froth of venom that burned with a fierceness that awoke the dying man; a burning, bubbling pain washed through his bloodstream, rapidly escalating to a blistering scald that felt like the very flesh was being eaten away, dissolving in the acidic venom, cauterizing anything in its path – tissue, tendons, organs, bone, all, all burning with the deep caustic action of the massive dose of injected poison; he couldn't hold on any longer, it was too much for any living being to bear and he screamed hoarsely, no longer defiant, but begging for release from this everlasting torture of white-hot pain in his crushed body.

The creature withdrew its fangs and watched the tears roll down the handsome face contorted by pain, the scream music to its ears; but unexpectedly, the man threw his head back and found the breath to scream his goddess' name: "ETRO! Goddess, let me live! I can't die! I have to live! Oh sweet mother basting Etro I have to live, oh pleasepleaseplease…" retching, he choked, spewing blood over the ebon scaly hide of his stoic tormentor then with a rasping sob, began his hysterical rant again: "Etro! Hear me, I can't die! I have to live!'"

A hissing chuckle was heard, then it asked him: "SSSShadow hunter, why sso important to cling to life?" He struggled, the clenches and jerks becoming involuntary spasms as he shrieked in his agony, weeping wildly: " I HAVE TO LIVE, OH GODDESSS EEETRROOOO! I have to live for someone! Someone important! Someone important is coming for me!"

The dark servant laughed: "Ohhh- who?"

"LOVE! My – My love is waiting for me! Some- somewhere! I…havetoliveIhave tolive…I Can't die, EEEETTRO! PLEEEEAAASSSE!" His voice broke, hysterically weeping, then subsiding into a choking wheeze as his pain mounted and his inner flame of life grew dim.

The creature was fascinated by the young Pulsian clinging so stubbornly to his life; its kind was also Pulsian in origin, but it was several steps removed from the common homind lifeforms inhabiting the cities and villages. The mysterious holy of holy beings of Pulse, the Fal'Cie, as they called themselves, had chosen it to serve them; even the House Imperate, the ruling class of Pulse bowed and cringed at the will of the Fal'Cie. It was suspected they were artificially enhanced superior genetic material, with faster reflexes, prescience, with seers and seeresses born every generation. Telekinetics, teleportation, and high abilities in magic or conjuring went hand in hand with the gifts. A complex interbreeding system further enhanced the Fal'Cie caste; it was rumored that marriages were arranged three generations into the future.

Fal'Cie serve the temples, deliver and act on the edicts of the Pulsian Gods, judge high court matters, and advise the head of House Imperate. The L'Cie, the underlings that serve them, pursue many tasks, some exotic, some mundane, and at times nonsensical; Fal'Cie are notorious for not directly expressing their will, as their logic is so subtle as to appear very oblique to ordinary Pulsians.

L'Cie are the closest beings allowed near Fal'Cie and upon accepting their nomination, are endowed with some of the powers of the Fal'Cie, and are branded with the sigil of the god the Fal'Cie serve at induction; no one knows how or why someone is nominated – anyone from a pauper to the highest bastard of the Imperate house has been offered candidacy and accepted.

The Fal'Cie also create lesser servants, commonly nicknamed ghouls, who are just shells of Pulsian beings; they are emptied of soul inside, just animated bodies. They can be filled with the will of a Fal'Cie or a L'Cie, and do tasks like assassinations, or be ears or eyes in places the secretive beings cannot go easily.

Fal'Cie in themselves are not 'good' or 'evil'; but if they serve a particular god, whom may be evil or good, then their actions will invariably align to the greater will. The L'Cie avidly crushing the life out of the young shadow hunter was definitely aligned to the darker side of the holy family; its master was aligned to Lindzei, the snake of the underworld. It took pleasure in performing the will of the God; it had been instructed to make the man suffer, as he had insulted the Lord. The L'Cie had wriggled in pleasure and twisted itself into a swirling Gordian knot before assuming the disguise of the upright bipedal hominid form it used to be before it disappeared into the cool fragrant evening breeze outside the balcony of the lord's stronghold in the upper city.

It now drew back, sinuously bobbing its flat head to watch the man's death throes, the agony of his soul a delight to behold; then delight turned into fear as a searingly bright light exploded in its face, blinding the night loving eyes for long moments; disoriented, it did not feel the iridium chain wrapped around its own neck until too late; the chain tightened with a masterful hand and a sonorous voice delivered a whiplash of a spell; then it was weakened, powerless, useless; a desert knife hovered dangerously near a golden eye when it regained its sight; cringing, it obeyed the command and loosened its hold, letting the man drop free.

The servant of Etro glared at the writhing, looping coils of the dark servant with an aquamarine eye and deliberately flicked a fang with a gloved hand in mock consternation before speaking: "Now, now, dear servant: I have a message from Etro for you: Lay not thine hand on mine child; If he has done a wrong, then come to me. What is mine shall be lessoned by mine own hand and no other's shall touch him."

The slim elegant blade of a man abruptly dropped the dark creature as if he were a mere worm, squirming into the dirt after being yanked from the hook of a fisherman's line and lightly snorted his disgust; he then bent and hoisted the young man's body, battered and bloodied as it was; he could not hear the deep burred voice speaking, but the servant of Etro said it anyway: "You've got all the time in world now to live and love, shadow hunter. Let's get you out of here." A snap of wings unfurling and beating filled the air then shot them up, up into the dark starred night.

Noel Kreiss knelt at Etro's temple before the empty throne above the abyss, unconsciously feeling the left shoulder where the fangs had pierced him; the memory, now blurred a little with time and the strongest of healing spells still haunted him: He never forgot being laid right here, this very spot on the floor by a stern angel of mercy, pale faced like the moon, icy rose hair cascading over a clean arc of brow that was far too breathtakingly beautiful for a mere man to inhabit; the slim strong hands he also remembered, being stripped of soft grey gloves and laid on him in healing, suffused with the very glow of the goddess Etro, tracing over the bloodied wounds on the shoulder, knitting together the broken ribs, crushed organs and cooling the burning venom inside that was reducing the very core of him to putrescence; he wept as he healed, his soul seeming to fly upwards to the throne through the drifting white feathers of her wings; he thought he heard her speak, a cool light amused voice that sang like a thousand silver bells: "Well, servant mine; thou hast done well by mine command. So…this is the one who bid me for life in the name of love?"

The servant nodded and spoke in the careful vernacular of the high court, overlaid with the soft burr of the mountain clans: "Aye. He's the one who hunted seeress Paddra Nsu Yuel and brought her back through the gates. Clever. I cannae tell you why Barthandeus' servant did this; I heard he was offered candidacy and refused; it must have prinked Lindzei's nose. He wants no part of the darkness. It's not often one refuses a seeress' bed, either. He saw right through the glamoring and the focus; I'm not sure even I could have resisted Yuel. These desert-bred nomads are bone-hard. He's rather handy with a blade, too. He'd make a good champion, or even malakim; he's pretty enough for one, at least."

"An angel of mine own? How droll. I'll have to give him black wings to go with the hair. Did you see any name in his heart when you healed?"

"Nae, Lady Goddess. He's naught but eighteen, almost nineteen. He is not known to woman, even. Virgin. The gates of time have been most unkind: Jumping through 5 centuries searching, yet still almost a child. He's barely a man. "

"Perhaps I will find him a name to love." She rested her eyes affectionately on her servant, Edward Farron and thought: _I will protect thy line, my beautiful, loyal Mu'Aquibbat. I will send this one to join with thy heart of your heart. E'Claire, was it not?_ _They are perfect for each other; he's stubborn enough to call on me for his own miracle, she needs her own miracle – and that's what I do...miracles._

Her light laughter chimed as she commented: "After all, any man who calls for love without reading the marriage contract deserves the consequences!"

The deep chuckle of the servant joined hers as they flew away in the soft dark, leaving a soft rain of ash grey and white feathers lazily floating down on the young man now slumbering on the floor of the temple.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Noel Kreiss awoke on the cool stone of the temple floor and unsteadily made his way back to the House Imperate; after washing the filth off him in the bath house, he wrote his report over three days and sent it to the House's Marshall. He was summoned to the high court in another three, and pulled aside to the private council room of the Fal'Cie advisory cabinet, where he was politely reassured by the 5 members of the cabinet the incident of his refusal was of no bearing on his standing with the Fal'Cie; he had performed his duty with the utmost loyalty and professionalism; they wished him to rest now, regain his strength and cleanse his soul of the darkness before assigning him another hunt. It was hinted candidacy would be considered, but under another sponsor, whom had already ensured the first nominator withdrew his bid. More time would be given to explain and explore the nature of the position, before he would be asked to choose the next time. It was not a thing to be taken lightly, and they admired his wisdom, so rare in one so…young. A leather bag was pushed forward on the table to his right; it had the seal and mark of the full talent; his fee for his performance, an unheard of full talent of gold gil. Astonished, he simply stared at the faintly smiling quintet of beautiful cool faces.

"We will look forward to your return, when such time has passed and your soul sparkles clear and clean as the crystal of Etro's throne, young shadow hunter. Now, go enjoy life, refresh yourself in Academia or the springs of your beloved desert homeland."

"How will I know when to come back for the next hunt?"

"Ah…we will let you know. And you will know when we call. " An enigmatic smile concluded the conversation.

_Don't call us, we'll call you._ A wry grin crossed his lips, the first in months as he walked through the main gate out into the high city of Academia.

Noel Kreiss had nowhere to go, no one to see, so he engaged a room for an indefinite stay, and simply began to explore Academia; he'd spent most of his time just within the confines of the Temples, the House Imperate, or in alternate timelines, ever since he came in from the desert and took the oath at his father's deathbed request, whom had also been a shadow hunter. City life was a revelation, yet still lonely as the wildlands beyond the dunes, except the canyons were plasteel and glass, the mesas landing platforms of the immense proud corporations who ran this town, each fiercely brandishing their own sigils, proud as lions. Corporate greed ran deep, and espionage was rampant, along with the intrigues of the lower court, all fighting, gossiping and carrying favor, much to the amusement of the upper court. Noel had no lack of cases, and it amused him also to take some; he usually was referred by one noble or corporate exec to another, so the days began to flow into one another. However, he found the constant barrage of intimate come-ons, flirtations and open invitations wore on his pure, disciplined nomad psyche; it seemed there was no one that was interested in him beyond the obvious; he wanted depth, respect, true intimacy. He began to despair and think there was no one out there for him, then retreated from upper city society functions, concentrating on his Scripts of Etro when not working a case, moodily meditating at Etro's Throne on the mantra of right place, right time, and right person until the tension left his body.

As it so happened, one cloudy day a note was delivered to his room on heavy silver-white paper, addressed to Noel Kreiss Shadow Hunter in a firm angular hand, the brush strokes artistic, yet not full of flourishes or curls, like a lady's script; It intrigued him, so he opened it and read the following:

_Noel Kreiss:_

_A shadow hunter may rest, but never sleeps for long; if the joy of the hunt is missing by now, there is a small matter that may prove interesting and alleviate your idleness. _

_Two family members in my immediate circle have been marked for termination, and with no good cause or public grievance. As I value my Light as highly as my own life, there is no alternative but to hunt the source and quell it with all the prejudice I can find in me. _

_Perhaps you will discuss the particulars with me tonight? Andresyr's, 6 PM. _

_Hope Estheim_

_Director Academy Dia Academia_

_10100 Universe Circle House Directorate Suite #1_

_Upper city Northwest , 3__rd__ Arrondisment 999865A1_

Noel sent back a formal reply accepting, writing in a surprisingly elegant hand, with the delicate tribal flourish below the signature and the addressee's name; it made him long for desert land and clean air, but anything was better than the endless waiting for another hunt. He was all appetite when he reached Andresyr's, curious as a cat about the case and sniffing appreciatively at the meat grilled over open charcoal. Hope was already seated at a good table, quiet, near the corner of the balcony, with a view of the bar lined up with pretty women swiftly pouring drinks. Hope's youth was a surprise; also was his sharp concise questions over drinks, then his research into the attempts, all neatly packaged into a micro tablet for him to peruse later. Hope's silver hair began to attract attention the later it got, as the intoxicants loosened inhibitions of the customers; silver hair and pastel eyes with pale skin was the coloring of house Imperate, and Hope was of the blood; and in the upper city, anything Imperate was considered a catch, so the table began to be a magnet of amorous attention. Hope blushed as he always did, humorously stating: "Once they find out I'm an Academian, oh my Etro! It's like I have a plague! How my life is lacking in pretty girls!"

Noel just had to laugh, his sapphire blue eyes suddenly alight: "Ah. We nomads know that mantra very well also, Hope!" The evening ended well, and Noel accepted the case; Hope would pick him up tomorrow night and take him to meet Light, or Lightning, along with her sister Serah, both Farrons and cousins to Hope on his mother's side.

He immediately jumped in on the room's info access computer and began to research the info given him, tapping in notes, photos, camshots, police reports, absorbing the hundreds of details about the incidents. It was a delightfully puzzling knot, and he couldn't wait to delve into it and untangle the strings, so to speak.

Hope's cousins, two sisters, one aged twenty-one, one eighteen, had been involved in an incident on the freeway to the upper city recently: flyby shootings were common in Oldtown, but never in the upper city. The sisters were on the way to the university where the younger one studied, and a pair of transports had played cat and mouse with the velocycle, then a gloved hand whipped out a full auto blazefire beretta and emptied a full belt in their exact direction. The elder sister had leapt from the burning 'cycle with sister in her arms and had the courage or the luck to land in the rooftop pool of the Starlight Hotel. The unusual part of the attempt was a spell was cast to turn the water to ice, which partially encapsulated the sisters, but the elder's clever use of her gunsaber pumping repeated high capacity shells shattered the icy prison. Second attempts were made separately, again the elder sister charging in to save her sister at a concert; her wariness increased, so she was ready for the next attempt in Oldtown, by the bridge and managed to hit a 'cycle that fell in the river. It was a pity she was not trained as a shadow hunter, she chased him down the embankment but the assassin escaped. A set of wordless warnings had occurred afterwards, a decapitated snake delivered in a bouquet of roses at Valahalla, then a rather nasty image of a dove with wings torn off sent to Serah Farron's cell from a number that was silent messages were discordant , almost playful afterthoughts vs. a serious warning; Noel wrote them off. Only a jealous boyfriend or disgruntled acquaintance would do something so amateur after the well planned and executed attempts.

When he saw Lightning Farron's face on the micropad, he paused; where had he seen that combination of aqua eyes and icy rose pink hair before? It was a rare combination; something rang within him, the steady clear tolling of familiarity, like a great bronze bell resounding over and over in the depths of his soul. The hazy memory of white feathers drifting down and caressing his face, a face of an angel with ice rose locks cascading over a gemmed eye, laying a cooling caressing hand that brought relief from the agony…the agony that he dared not remember, it was too much… Noel's hand crept up to stroke his left shoulder, as he filled his eyes with the lovely face, enhanced by delicate brows and made utterly, uniquely, adorably feral by a little pointed cat chin that stuck out in such a stubborn determined manner; she was lovely, so lovely…he wanted to touch the skin, feel the warmth of the woman pulsing beneath the smooth expanse of silk that must be her skin, oh, she had to be a beauty through and through; would eyes like those icy sparkling zircons ever warm in welcome to limpid aqua seas at the sight of him? Would anyone's eyes welcome him, or was he doomed to be a man without the kingdom of heaven in his tent? _Etro, did you hear my prayer?_ He laid back on the feather filled pillows and drifted off to sleep, the question repeating in his mind like a mantra. Just as he was slipping off into the warm soft dark, a cool amused voice softly reminded: _Of course I did._ _Have a care for what you pray for - I'll certainly give it to you._

It was nearly 10 PM before Hope & Noel got in the doors of Valhalla; thankfully they found a spot to wait for Lightning and settled in to watch the Valhalla floor show; Noel was already assessing the crowd, cataloging a million details and simply letting his hunter's instincts take over, in case there was some danger the barsecs overlooked. He deemed the security adequate for the moment, but held back any comment until he'd had a chance to see how a problem or two was handled. He was somewhat distracted by the girls performing, but began to tune them out after watching them bump and grind or twirl on their poles; there was one with ebony skin and dark glossy hair in a million braids who exhibited a few strong tribal movements in her act that caught his eye, but no one that really, well, stood out. He'd wondered if the place was overrated, it seemed these city people liked their sex as refined as the sugar in their tea; insipid sweetness, overdone innocence and obvious clichés as pure as the sparkling white crystals Hope had poured into his cup earlier. The recorded music faded off and the stage cleared as the girls now pranced through the crowds, looking for private commissions in the rooms upstairs. Hope And Noel were approached twice before they got the hint it was business with Lightning, not pleasure for the pair tonight; one girl offered to run and get her, her face glowing momentarily with loyalty; Light had taught her that reverse cupid spin, you know? They shrugged, and politely said it was a great move, then declined, preferring to wait for Lightning to find them; this wasn't a conversation for all ears. The girl strutted off with a pert movement of her head and shake of her tail, much like a skittering squirrel who has gotten away with a treat under their noses. Noel & Hope both realized for about the hundredth time tonight how lacking pretty girls were in their lives, looked at each other, sighed and upended their glasses. Hope went back for another round, pushing his way to the long stone expanse and holding his glasses up.

Musicians had entered and were quickly running hands over instruments while the lights dimmed and smoke began to fill the stage like drifts of clouds in the heavens; the illusion was amplified by holo projections of sky and stars in the upper half; coos and gasps of anticipation began to float above the introductory music as five winged figures began to slowly descend from the heavens of to grace the ground below in Valhalla. The music was the latest rage, amplified electronica; with an alarming screech of the guitar, the vocalist attacked their ears with a skull-splitting scream like an eagle's cry and then the hottest, tightest, sexiest rhythm broke out as the Valkyries swooped in on their mortal worshippers. And oh, how worthy they were of worship! Each had a unique face that seemed heaven-made and their bodies were more like living sculptures; they didn't just dance, they flew in space, using the poles to launch themselves into flips or layouts that seemed gravity defying; one Valkyrie caught Noel's eye with her black wings and a body sculpted long and lean, equal to his beloved goddess Etro. All of his instincts prickled in a silent alarm as his eyes took her in; he was transfixed, his body automatically standing absolutely still. It already knew what his brain had yet to tell him: He was in the room with a hunter. She didn't just dance, she _prowled_, her stride surefooted, while that beautiful body rippled with a barely contained power; his mouth went dry and his eyes clung as she fiercely thrashed her icy platinum rose head in time with the driving beat as his body, a step ahead of him tonight , slapped him in the face with another message: desire. Not the idle attraction he'd felt earlier, but a thick hot pour of magma bringing his blood to rolling boil in seconds; _Ohhh Etro…mine. She MUST be mine. _Then disgusted with himself, he pushed it down & caged it with a well-practiced reflex; she was a pole dancer in a city bar, not a lady…no breeding, no family inheritance…most likely a whoring guttersnipe, not the mate, the match he'd waited for all his life. Desire, it was just desire. Wholly despisable & utterly contemptible. Totally conquerable. _Ismii qalil walah_. It was just desire. He'd dealt with that demon many times, out in the wastelands with golden Tajen, his first hunting partner; stumbling back into civilization after eons in time travel desperate for the touch of a human, _any_ human; in the dark of night watching Yuel's breath from the doorframe of the bedroom door she'd left open in silent invitation. He'd conquered the dark side of his soul more than once, so he let his blazing thoughts be quenched with the cool water of long-suffering reasoning.

His eyes went wide as the Valkyrie swung off the pole into space towards him, plummeting from 15 feet up into a hawk-like stoop, then she lashed her leg out in a move that was shockingly familiar to him, a lethal scissors kick that sliced the air above his head quite precisely; he felt a few hairs move as he sank down in a block, his hand on his knife hilt as his nerves shrilled in alarm – _Etro, I did NOT see that move coming, what the baste is up with this place? Everyone seems on the verge of crazy! _He was suddenly distracted by the semi-angelic face looking down on him, a touch of naughty wickedness in the sparkling crystal eyes, palest rose satin lips arcing into a subtly amused smile, and then she gone, a brush of sooty wing feathers caressing against a cheek. An enchanted Noel silently kissed the air recently vacated, then sighed as he dropped his chin in hand to give the floor show his complete attention. Beautiful girls were so lacking in his life, especially the ones who could kick his ass.

So, Noel waited patiently with Hope as the seven Valkyries finished their act, then dispersed; there was no crude trolling for customers, they had their time bought via bid or appointment for private functions. Noel glanced at Hope, wondering how much longer they'd have to wait; then Hope's face registered a familiar glow of happiness that Noel attributed to Lightning's presence. He turned as a spray of refracted light announced her presence; she hadn't even changed from her performance costume, a rather shocking affair of sparkling gems which covered precious little of her artificially tanned skin. Hope grinned and tilted his head in greeting: "Where's the wings, Valkyrie? " knowing full well they were a minor magic glamouring spell to enhance the mystique of the girls. " Light, let me introduce Shadow Hunter Noel Kriess. He's visiting in Academia for a while."

Noel met her eyes squarely and saw a fortress in the aqua blue eyes of his fantasy warrior-huntress, overlaid with a cool amusement at the world. She returned his formal greeting with a palm to forehead, tribal style and gave the traditional Ya'asallaam ah'Etro in a voice as coolly amused as her eyes, taking in his tribal clothing, especially the wrapped pants that seemed half skirt. Hope briefly caught up with the events in their lives over the past few days while Noel simply observed the crowd, letting them go through their city protocol.

They were too engrossed in each other to notice that a patron approached; amused, Noel watched the horny drunk announce his presence by stumbling up to her and shooting a hand out to grasp a nipple, despite it being well concealed beneath the crystal studded fabric; Noel was as surprised as the patron to have his wrist taken in a steel grasp; almost daintily, she ducked underneath the arm, quickly twisted and drove it deep into the shoulder, pinning the greedy hand, now numbing with pain; the other hand grasped the collar of the shirt and pushed him over the bar head first in the ice bin; a light leap up, then a little more pressure ducked the head below the frigid water line and held it there for a good 15 seconds before yanking it back up to her face. She lightly admonished the sobering man with: "It keeps its hands to itself, or it gets the bin again, understand?"

The huge blond bartender who'd been watching without a move grinned, then took the collar from Lightning and pulled him down the rapidly clearing space in front of them towards the back door to be escorted off the property.

"I…ah, apologize for the intrusion; I shouldn't have come out here in costume." She scuffed a bare foot, only clad in a jewelled wrap, like Noel's tribal leather bracelet running up his right forearm, but citified with sparkling gems and silver cord. Noel's desire returned to bite him, his mouth filling with juices as the thought of holding that strongly arched foot, biting it savagely as it dangled on his shoulder while he…_Stop. She's not Nomad._ _Listen to her voice._

"…and you two could have just stepped in there for me a minute, couldn't you? My ever-loving Etro, if he can't even bring himself to lift a finger to help me with a drunk patron, why would he be any use as a guardian for me here?"

"I wanted to see what you could do on your own…Miss…Lightning. Miss Farron. My position not only demands I protect you, but help you learn to protect yourself. Looks like I won't have to start from scratch, as I usually have to do. You've learned some things. You need some situational awareness, but at least you're not afraid to assert yourself." He permitted a brief smile." "I like that. I accept the job." Noel caught himself and Hope neatly with that, he was sure Hope had been tuning her whine out of his ears, too.

She transfixed him with a heartless aqua eye ringed with deep smoky stage makeup, a bit surprised at the backhanded compliment, but irritated at his superior air: "What did you expect? A helpless city girl in a panic over an ex-boyfriend? Little brother, you must think I am really helpless or hopeless. Think again. This. Is. **Valhalla**. The ultimate den of sin in Oldtown. You obviously don't have a clue about the insanity that really goes on here, do you? In fact, I think you're so clueless, I'll give you a second chance. Why not just start over again and come back later, say….like about when you can get off your Etro-damned ass and take me seriously like a real pro instead of acting like you're too good for the job while staring at all the eye candy?"

Noel stifled the impulse to look down his back for claw marks, opened his mouth to hotly retort and shut it, as he quickly realized she'd nailed him within 15 seconds, and his instincts were right: she was a hunter – and that was her first pounce. He merely kept silent and offered the other cheek.

"Over-enthusiastic and violent patrons are part of the business; and yes, I can 'assert' myself quite well – dancing wasn't my first job here. I was hired for security detail at Valhalla – go ask Lexis or Snow there, if you don't believe me, Shadow Hunter Kreiss…As for YOU accepting the job, I think I will, ah, '_assert'_ myself and state I have a say in that also; and right now I have only two words, and one of them is Bovine, oh Kupo."

Noel reddened as his mind supplied the malodorous mate to the word bull and was about ready to growl at her city manners; a light pressure from Hope's hand on his shoulder stopped him, so he settled for a sarcastic glare from his deep blue eyes, which she returned, steady as a lynx.

Hope hastily interjected: "Noel, it's true, she was security; Lexis found her teaching the girls how to flip off the pole and tempted her to the side of chaos with an offer she couldn't refuse. You can assess her skills in the security dojo – they've got their own training rooms on the 3rd level of this hell. How about we talk this through in a more quiet location? If nothing else, think of your sister, Light. The best way to protect her is to protect yourself. You have to stay alive long enough to get her through to adulthood. Then you can go back to killing yourself by swinging off poles all you want." His lightly sarcastic distraction from Noel worked, as he knew she was about to sink her teeth into Noel, then they'd be in a dominance fight, which Noel would lose, just like any other male, Nomad or no Nomad. She was a force of nature when pissed.

She led the way to Lexis's private office, called Serah to come downtown, and pulled on a shirt against the cool air conditioning in the office, then waved Snow, the big blonde bartender & Serah in when they arrived. Contrary to her earlier display of temper towards Noel, she listened carefully at his assessment, then Hope's assessment and theory, then roundtabled the discussion in a logical manner, asking Snow for his comments, then asked Serah to recount all of her 'incidents' no matter how small or trival they appeared. It soon turned into a lively discussion of planning, and Hope could see Light finally being sold on the idea. She had reservations about Noel, it was clear, but Hope sensed it was more about his attitude towards her; he would advise Noel later to respect Light, or at least act like he did, and fill him in on her background in detail; he was sure she wouldn't tell Noel about her training in Corps because of the subsequent standard dismissal for having a minor as a dependent. It couldn't be helped; their mother had died. The commander did all he could, as she was a promising talent, but the judge advocate general stood firm and Light had to return to civilian life until Serah was capable or no longer a minor. So for 4 long years, Lightning became trapped in a role she'd been forced into. At least she was trained, and kept up her training every day.

The discussion was stopped by a heavy rattling thump and a dull roar of screaming that rose from the second floor below them; smoke billowed up from the elevator doors as they tore down the hall to get out; Snow caught up a sec com ear mike from Lexis' office and ran to command central with the others in tow; it was another assassination attempt ; a patron in the house tonight had been a crime lord, and someone had picked Valhalla as the best chance for killing him off; sec men swarmed in, grabbed gear and ran for floor two; they were ordered out, get to the rooftop and escape from there ; when they hit the roof, air hovercraft and velocycles awaited to either block off the lord's escape or assassination crew's return. They rained light fire down on everyone, lords or not, in their eagerness. Others ran onto the roof and shot back, a small handheld rocket launcher took out a velocycle, raising a ragged cheer from the lord's sec detail. Then the airborn transports backed off, puzzling the small group until a single dark object was thrown from a velocycle higher up; _Oh shite_ was all Hope could say when he realized it was an explosive; he ran & dove for the door as Light was sprinting for all she was worth to the escape route off the side of the building, she was dragging Serah also, which slowed her down; Serah fell, and Light turned back for her as she always did; Snow and Noel sprinted out from their spot behind the A/C unit to them; Snow threw himself on Serah & rolled with her towards the overhang supports of the small air transport landing platform; he was six feet and 4 inches of solid muscle and surrounded Serah with a complete shield of himself with ease, then took cover under the 12 inch plasteel-reinforced deck.

Noel didn't hesitate and dove for Light, a hand pulling at his back waistpack & desperately throwing something onto the 6 inch plasteel post that held the ladder as they both plummeted over the edge of the building; he wrapped his legs and arms around her as they fell through the canyons of skyscrapers, the explosive detonating with a brilliant white light, then flaring golden as the building shook with the force. Bricks toppled off, then a small part of the roof collapsed in with a great cloud of dust. The rope unraveled for what seemed like hours while Noel & Light fell into the dark of the cool evening air. With the slowing of time in such situations, they stared at each other with a stillness, sapphire and aquamarine gems opening into pupils of night, falling, falling into each other's' souls _…this could be the last face I see alive…_until the rope caught and rebounded, sending them arcing back up into night.

Lightning caught her breath as Noel did; if it were possible to hold each other tighter, they did, and their adrenaline soared, totally dazzled by the fact they were alive and relatively unharmed; then it somehow segued into an insane adventure as the momentum continued to arc them back and forth between the buildings; they were extremely keyed up from the near death experience, so it was no surprise that the flex of the muscles in her leg between his thighs began producing an unbelievable excitement. The soft rasp of the fabric & the warmth of each other began to suffuse them with a sharp white heat they couldn't ignore; every time one slid down a little off the pitch of the leg, the other would slide it in a little further & pull closer. Noel kept his gaze on Light, the iris of his eyes darkening; something in it was looking right into her. She felt like she was falling into those ocean blue depths & finding a deep wellspring of intensity in those open eyes to match the over the top excitement happening in her head; the maddening rhythm of the arcing rope was unbearably sexual; Light felt his arms tighten even harder, pulling her face inches from his face, his warm breath mixing with hers, close enough to kiss; all other sensations fell away, and they were alone except for the singing rope, the sheer pleasure verging on agonizing then soaring to a fine point until their bodies gently released themselves, drifting back down in a welter of sweat, trembling, & thudding hearts. The soaring climax was spontaneous as breath, their bodies wiser than their minds, rejoicing at the near miss with a sudden outpouring of life.

It wasn't until they both undressed for the night in their respective showers that they both sank down to the shower floor weak kneed at the sudden self-awareness , the secret admission to themselves that the physical explosion had actually happened between them while hanging in space, held in Etro's hand.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Lightning's cell purred with a second message that morning from Lexis; she called back immediately, rolling to look out of the window at the weather, which was clear, white scudding clouds against the sky. Valhalla's roof was being repaired, but the second floor was still a mess, mirrors would take about a week to replace; Lexis had called to offer any number of cancellations to her appointments tonight, especially since she'd been caught in the nastiness on the roof; but Lightning declined and said she'd need the favor in a day or two; she was hiring a bodyguard for Serah and needed to plan scheduling a bit. Lexis chuckled and said if it was the desert boy who played swing rope with her prized Valkyrie last night, she just might give him honorary admission; she hung up pleased with Lightning, after she complimented her on her nerves of steel, and business sense – everyone who was at Valhalla tonight would be keyed up and live large; a close call always was a turn-on. Little did she know how true those words rang in Lightning's ears, making her groan at the memory – she knew he'd also climaxed, she'd glanced down at the loose nomad wrapped pants, hoping her own climax hadn't left any telltale dampness; she blinked at the wet spot that quickly disappeared under a drape of deep blue fabric with a twitch of his hand in the guise of a belt adjustment; the rope and light harness built into his belt and battle shirt was meant to take only one person's weight and had shifted with the stress of two, but it had held.

She called Hope next, and left a text as well; she decided Noel Kriess was hired after all; she thought it out over tea and tapped in her plan on her cell, then sent it to the relevant parties and asked for a meeting at Valhalla's Security training dojo that afternoon before she went to work. Everyone showed up within a reasonable time and they whistled at how fast the damages were being repaired: Lexis knew everyone, and that was the secret of her success. If she didn't know how to get it, she knew someone that could.

Noel had been pleasantly excited that Lightning had hired him; he looked forward to a few good fights and a good, simple, downright violent hunt; he fully expected it to be over within a week, and gambled on the silent stalker to be an ex-boyfriend or a client gone sour and wielding influence with the Fal'Cie; once exposed, the Fal'Cie ruling class would make short work of such a man and make his job easier, plus a gram or two of golden gils would smooth over any rankling feelings over doing a job for a bar girl with a mouth. _Etro, that mouth…_His desire started kicking his self control and evilly presented him with a mental picture of kissing those soft inviting lips while swinging in space; _you shoulda kissed her you shoulda kissed her, you damn fool_ it taunted him; _look at that lush bow of that upper lip, if that wasn't made for passion, I'm a liar; to hell with what the others say –it's the upper lip that betrays passion, never the lower. It was the right time and the right place and the right one….No! she wasn't! _Noel barked back: _She's a whore. It's just another case. _

Of course, Noel Kriess hadn't been exposed to Murphy's laws of the universe, or had there been such a thing in the world of Gran Pulse, they might have been called Farron's Fallacies, or Etro's Edicts; but as he found out, life seldom turns where we wish it.

The plan seemed solid enough: On the days Lightning worked, Noel would escort Serah to Academia's university in the morning, and stay near campus with a point of contact after each class, then escort her home or anywhere she chose, until 6 PM. The library at the college could be also used as a research facility for him to find out who was behind the incidents and track his prey. At 6 pm he was allowed an hour's respite, then escorted Lightning to Valhalla to start her work at 8 PM and was either guarding her or was left free time until she signaled him via text for escort home; normally at midnight, but if the client was important enough, or the floor was hot, she'd stay and rake in all she could until their pockets were empty or until the sun rose.

Noel fought tooth and nail to perform a security assessment of Valhalla, so she and the others could be fairly safe and prevent any copycat attempts, which was common in Oldtown; after all, Valhalla did have rivals. Snow and a full complement of 36 security were fairly well trained, the nightclub had state of the art security systems, plus the 3rd floor was nothing but security – communications room, weaponry, a dojo, safe room, and a vault. However, Lexis would not trust Noel with Valhalla's sec-com network just yet; it had a database of clients that had paid Lexis and her Valkyries to ensure no one knew about, but at least Lexis was willing to pay half for the security assessment. He was free to stay at Valhalla and watch the shows or be Lightning's personal guard in the private client rooms if he wished, but Lightning tried to impress upon him that her sister was her number one priority in life; she was all the family she had, and they were so close to making it out of Academia to start a new life. She expected Noel to report any findings or incidents daily and simply asked for updates on the way to work, or afterwards.

She let Noel and Hope plan any emergency evac situations out, allowed an upgrade to all their cells, even buying Noel his own cell. It was a subtle flirtation to her, when Noel asked to take her photo with the cell; he spent almost five minutes taking her image at a dozen different angles, which she felt was a bit flattering. Of course, he didn't tell her he needed a database of images to memorize her, whether she was in the same room or in a sec cam eye. He took images of Serah too; when he got back to Hope's apartment, he idly compared the two sisters images until he drifted off on the couch.

_How could two sisters be more different?_ Noel wondered as he watch Serah later, lightly laughing at a friend's silly photo on her cell, which she playfully sent over to her new bodyguard; she was slimmer than Lightning, the ice pink hair was almost the same tint, but Serah's face was that of an angel, heart shaped, a pretty pert nose, two eyes like a lavender sunrise, or sparkling tanzanite jewels set off with a pure alabaster complexion; her entire being seemed made out of light; Noel wryly thought of Hope's soft nickname for Serah's sister entirely misplaced, and thought the two names had been a mistake on the parent's part; but little did he know the Light that Hope knew.

Hope knew without a doubt, that of the two, Lightning was the stronger, the fairer. He had his proof, an epiphany at age 14 in the form of a knife wielding, L'Cie bashing creature who pulled him from the burning wreckage of a train and kept him alive through a seven month hell of a purge. He could never find any darkness in his Light, despite her claims she was a contrary demon and would tease him with her dark wings before or after performance, saying "See? Even chaos has me cast as the dark demon of night, muh-hah-hah!" He'd reply: "You're still an angel, no matter how sooty your wings get, girl."

The passing of a week smoothed things out between Noel & Lightning to the point of the assertive Valkyrie actually being charming to the young shadow hunter; she couldn't quite get that evening dive off the roof out of her mind, and his utter and complete attention when conversing with her made her feel pleasantly attracted; the subject was usually her, and on the surface she knew he was simply investigating into her; however, she couldn't help but be charmed by his manner, which was intense, up close & personal to the point of invading her personal space, often laying a hand on her arm, or drawing his chair closer, until they were almost nose to nose, no matter where they were. He was utterly fascinated with Pulsian nature, as he'd grown up isolated, in a time where the greater purges were happening; there was nothing but sand and sky for company for days, weeks on end, so life, any life, was an object of wonder & curiosity. He was handsome as hell to Lightning; there was something so captivating about the smooth golden brown tan skin, classic nomadic features of a high cheekboned face and delicate straight nose juxtaposed against ultramarine blue eyes like an oasis that made her feel his unwavering attention was more like a young blue eyed panther who'd pounce on her at any time he felt like it and devour her at leisure. His taut lean frame padded with muscle underneath seemed to somehow fit into hers better on her velocycle better than anyone else, too; she seldom let anyone ride her machine, much less take the driver's seat, and she felt totally comfortable with Noel taking the handlebars.

She was usually quite a sight on the 'cycle, as Lexis had it customized with the Valhalla colors of black and silver and even had a set of leathers made to match, 'Valhalla' spelled out in a line down her right leg and studded with glittering gems. It was free advertisement, or at least that's what Lexis told herself; she couldn't help but make sure her girls had a steady clientele, plus it added to the mystique of the Oldtown nightclub. She'd send the girls out to prowl the town at night and give an impromptu performance at a party in the upper city party tents or on even on the street, with a few sec men incognito for crowd control. She had Lightning to thank for helping with that, as she had been hired as a sec man; Lexis soon realized the self-possessed ex- Guardian Corps trainee was not only a damn clever idea for a sec position, but was the inspiration for an act that proved to be the most original, most sexy and most imitated idea in Oldtown. One day she caught Lightning idly flipping off the dance poles to show Stormy, a star performer how to do a full layout and the playfully warlike attitude made the savvy owner think twice. So she made the girls train with Lightning, created dazzling costumes in silver armor, paid conjurers to glamor them with wings, then took the town by storm with her show of nine Valkyries of Valhalla, all slicing the air with a wicked, lethally intoxicating performance that left everyone exhilarated. Lexis rewarded her girls lavishly when the profits rolled in, zooming Lightning to a breathless level of interest, the shadow hunter now included, who'd softly blew his breath out before swearing to Etro he'd do penance at her throne for the impure thoughts that crossed his mind the first time he saw her pull up and casually stride down the sidewalk among the mortals.

Noel really liked the leathers and thought them very suitable; the scent of her combining with the earthy scent made her seem instantly familiar, yet indefinably alluring, so more than once he passed off a deliberate brush or touch as accidental. Lightning found excuses to touch him while riding also, a hand on an arm, or holding onto his waist around a sharp turn, so the pair were a fair way along to getting a fire between them sparked, at least while they rode. However, Noel would retreat into polite professionalism once at their destination, sweeping the area, checking cams, entry/exit records, and the like, leaving Lightning thinking he was fastidious. But then, she reasoned, with a face and body like that, he could command the best and get it, just on the strength of physical attraction. But that was not Lightning's basis for attraction; of course, physical had its role, but there was some invisible tug, some mental or psychic finger that kept poking at her mind and soul whenever he was near. She always knew where he was in the room, even when her back was turned; something rang true between them when interacting, no matter how small the action.

When she was performing, she usually focused like a laser on her client, but her mind began playing tricks on her, slipping Noel's face into the vapid lust-filled features of whoever she was dancing for, or imagining a glimpse of a dark shadow against the velvet curtains was Noel, hand on his sword, squatting like a primitive, hiding himself, always standing guard over her, hovering, protective… it was a subtle eroticism to daydream those eyes melting into something far warmer than a cool hunter's gaze, self-control slipping into irresistible caresses, ending with an impassioned plea for her in between his wild kisses. She let her mind drift once with a brown haired blued eyed client, imagining it was her shadow hunter, and provoked the interest of the man so intensely he came back 3 nights in a row afterwards, the last time with ice pink roses to match her hair and an offer to be his exclusive mistress, which she charmingly answered with a keen blade of truth: "Oh, I'm good enough to love in public, but not good enough to love when we're alone? Exhibitionist I am not when it comes to love, sir." She stroked his face with a bloom and continued in a more kindly tone: "Stop looking for love in all the right places, Elgar; You'll not find a soulmate in the party tents of the Fal'Cie or private playrooms of Valhalla; maybe finding love is more like being in the wrong place at the right time." Elgar's sudden smile brightened her night as he realized his wit had been tickled with her setdown; as he left the private room with an extravagant bow to the point of kneeling and the exclamation:"Light, thou art a goddess in thine own right!" Lightning tilted her head just like she did at Hope, with a hint of warmth in her parting smile as she bowed in return with the extravagant bouquet.

Noel was puzzled at the scene, which appeared far too courtly for his taste and caught up with the man in the bar below; he was disturbed that she let a client come repetitively without notifying him, and even more disturbed that Elgar's advice was so unlike the portrait of the Lightning that he had painted with the answers to his incessant questions. He realized with a flash of intuition that maybe he didn't know her at all; all he knew were a select few hard facts, and the rest was hearsay. He slowly went through his mental file of interviews and slowly began to find evidence she showed everyone the face they wanted to see, gave everyone the answers they wanted to hear and no one got in, not even her sister. It was as if she had on a hundred masks, but all of them clear crystal; you lifted one up and then saw another… you could spend an eternity of time getting to know someone like her, and still wonder what lay underneath… A woman that didn't give herself away was rare…unique…formidable. Perhaps this was the key to her mystique as the most sought after Valkyrie in Valhalla? He sighed, remembered the fortress in her first direct glance, then propped his chin in his hand while allowing himself to drift into a haze of open theory while the girls twirled on their poles.

How is it that a basting bar girl turns down an offer like that, then gives him love advice? And all without a single baste or even a kiss? Only Fal'Cie acted like that; her unconscious regal demeanor was at odds with the bar rat image. Did she have a secret relationship going on with a Fal'Cie? Was she a L'Cie, a pet subtly imitating her master? Somehow, he doubted she'd ever been mastered; his desire slyly whispered: _You'd love to master her…imagine tearing off the final mask and seeing what's beneath it all? …Or would you love it more if __she__ mastered __you__?_ Noel deliberately took a breath, reciting Etro's Script slowly to drown out his desire's inner voice, then turned back to the 2nd floor. He was going to insist on knowing her appointment list in advance, or it was going to be guarding her in the private rooms from now on, be damned to any preferred clients. _Oh? Anything or anyone more than once too much to tolerate around your personal obsession, lover?_ smirked desire. A well placed kick to the 2nd floor door was Noel's answer.

He had his first real fight with his client that night: It wasn't that she minded him in the room, there were plenty of ways to hide him without a client knowing. It was the fact he wanted to stick his handsome nose into her private client list and talk about every client; each Valkyrie's client list was jealously guarded and Lightning had entertained some people that had paid to be nameless. Fal'Cie, politicians, Academians, Underworld Kingpins and even House Imperate had come and paid for her time. It was an intrusion, an intimacy without intimacy, almost a rape to her; but underneath that she was damn worried if anyone else knew that she'd even hinted at the names on her client list, she'd be a risk for elimination or worse. On a Deeper level, she felt the queries were an indicator that he mistrusted her, thought her incompetent, and she was just plain sick of having another bit of herself carved off & peeled away for his dissection. She growled and glowered at him almost nose to nose as he grew more heated in his insistence in between her clients in the private lounge; she snapped a sharp retort after the third one and shoved him back into the black velvet curtains and smoky mirrors as a sleek creature in purple- black riding leathers entered with his helmet on and decided to show him just why she kept the list confidential. Noel drew his sword immediately, shocked she'd let someone so heavily disguised come to her; why, this was an open door for an assault or worse! She was far too trusting and careless!

The rider sat down slowly and kept his gear on until the door closed and the lock snicked in place. Noel felt the hair raise on the back of his neck, tensely waiting for him to make the first move on her. In contrast she calmly waited until he nodded. Then she asked only one question: "Slow or fast?" A leisurely gliding hand movement indicated slow; Lightning caught the pace and drifted to a tablet inset in the wall, carefully choosing a selection of music to match the client's mood.

The dance was sensually slow, almost restful when compared to some of the gyrations she performed earlier for less suave clients; yet it was clearly seductive in nature. The music softly segued into beats antique and her movements also morphed into a subtle imitation of a traditional tribal dance; it pleased the client greatly, this novelty of primitive desire played out in a modern techno club; one felt sensed rather than heard the approval of the mature male sitting on the couch, now elegantly slouching back into the black leather. Noel now fought to slow his breathing, counting to keep each breath even in- even out as he watched Lightning move like a tribal woman hunting a mate. He ran his tongue over the edge of his teeth, feeling the sharpness of his canines, all appetite and snarlingly, evilly jealous of the man on the couch now openly enjoying Lightning's hips undulating as she bent back to the floor in front of him and he nearly bared his teeth watching a slim hand reach out and placing itself a fraction of an inch from the immaculately shod foot at the end of the beat in the subtlest of offerings. _Clever girl_ the hunter thought, _you don't even let yourself lay a finger on one client all night and they think you're the greatest baste they'll ever have. I get your lesson now – she knows her clients, but will only share what she knows on her terms. Looks like I'll have to change tactics to get her to open up. Maybe it's time to be a bastard; she's probably not had anybody stand up to her shite before. Or maybe I should be charming, like her cousin; she always gives in to Hope._

The helmet slowly came off and exposed a shock of platinum hair like Hope's but was not Hope of House Estheim; Noel stopped breathing when an ungloved hand ran through the strands and flashed a signet ring set with suns eyes, the cool blue-white refractions competing with the glitter of the icy silver locks adorning the head of one son of the House Imperate.

_Oh shite, shite SHITE…House Imperate!_ Noel fought his rising panic by reciting the sutra of calmness; _Clear thy mind, become as the water, water has no form, be formless, be still…this is no time to be a wafter and faint, nomad! Now think, THINK about it! Why is a prince of House Imperate interested in a pole dancer in an Oldtown drinking hell? List your theories, man! One – Plaything, she's discreet, disposable. Two – he's a ghoul, he might be trolling for a soul to buy; Three – she has something he wants, an artefact, a good gene matrix for breeding? If that hair color was real, she could be a bastard or a by blow of the ruling class…Four – he has something she wants, she wants out of Oldtown, anyone would… Five – he's just the messenger, is there a romance or some transaction for someone, like her sister? She IS a blossoming beauty Six – what if she's a L'Cie candidate? Oh, Etro…don't go there…calm, stay calm…Clear thy mind, become as the water, water has no form, be formless, be still. Clear thy mind, become as the water…_

When the icy haired noble finally left, his helmet firmly in place and gloves on, she finally strode forward and drew aside the heavy drape to find Noel standing there with a far way look in his eyes; of course he missed the point that the tribal dance was for him, not her client. She mentally sighed as he silently escorted her back to the velocycle after changing into street leathers and climbed on reluctantly, wondering if he was really the wily shadow hunter Hope had described with awe in his mellow tenor voice; he seemed to be a blunt instrument, abrupt, arrogant and mentally dense when she expected agility and nimbleness. She almost asked him if her tribal moves were authentic; she knew they were, but for some unknown reason wanted him to notice. _I can bring a prince to full attention, but this nomad acts as if I'm the sand beneath his feet._ She shifted back against the seat rest and let the cool night air swirl between them, thinking she was an unwelcome intrusion.

Noel felt her withdraw and made a soft sound of regret, blown away in the roar of the 'cycle; he had enjoyed the side benefit of Lightning's body pressed against his when performing his escorting duties. He could never get the wild jump off the building and the soaring ecstasy out of his nights and his desire became a constant companion that he kicked at, swore at, or just plain ignored. Feeding it small bites like this seemed to make it go away for a while and he sure as hell didn't want to spend another sleepless night reciting Etro's scripts.

He caught her arm as she dismounted and rather gently asked: "Would it be imposing on you if we discussed this evening over a drink? Your last client changed the focus of the investigation…and…um…I'd like to know where you learned authentic tribal." _There. Show some personal interest. Get her talking about something she likes. Then listen for the hidden truths. _

Surprised, she waved him in, then installed him in a chair on the back deck outside while the surf lapped against the pilings; she came back in comfortable dark clothing, a loose kurta-like shirt over city jeans carrying two bottles of water, two glasses, and a larger bottle of rakesh, an intoxicant from the desert, distilled from a cactus and flavored with a strongly pungent seed that grew commonly on the dunes; it had a warm sweetish cinnamon-like aftertaste, which drowned the afterburn. An outdoor hot bath was right outside the open glass doors of the bedroom, where dark gauze curtains blew out in the breeze. For a temporary pre-fab tin can of a dwelling, it was fairly nice, another incongruity Noel added to his mental file on his client – ruthless whores didn't keep a nice house, much less invite guests in. Anyone under a Fal'Cie's wing usually got an apartment in the upper circles of the city, living a lavish lifestyle, even if it was for just a few weeks or months, until their lover grew bored with the disposable lower class object of interest.

The alcohol from his neck of the woods was a subtle host's touch he appreciated, and he relaxed as he quietly discussed his change of course when he realized that the upper strata came to her; he explained he also had a client list from the upper strata, so he understood the value she & Lexis placed on discretion; he gently probed about how she had met the Fal'Cie, what she thought had attracted him, and if he had made her an offer or even hinted at anything to do with his class, a task, a favor; her direct immediate answers made him secretly hopeful that she'd not been tainted by Fal'Cie intrigue, or was being considered as a candidate L'Cie. He earnestly took her hands and drawing close, he almost begged her to confide in him if she ever were approached for any such thing; dropping his voice to a whisper he hoarsely rasped: "Trust me like you trusted me when we were on the roof, Lightning; don't get close to any Fal'Cie; every truth, every task, every favor they ask has two sides. Stay in the light, stay away from the dark side of that street, girl." Lightning wondered if he'd gotten wasted off the rakesh, being so young; but the expression in those ultramarine orbs gazing through a windblown mess of brown hair were nothing but steady; she slowly nodded, then trying to be sensitive, she gently asked: "Noel, do you speak from…experience?" He held still, caught in her hunter's gaze, a flare of aqua caught by the candle flame before answering; he could not help the tremble in his hands as he remembered something dark, oily and evil uncoiling; she tightened her grip to still them after he ever so slowly nodded in return.

"We all come from the light, Noel. The soul can remember, or forget. Speaking of light, its only 5 hours until dawn – why not sleep on the couch and practice with me tomorrow morning at the dojo? "

She dropped a mask and let her face show a warmly charming woman for a moment; the flash in her eyes made her seem like she was a being composed of light, her inner radiance rising like the dawn after a dark night; then she drew his hands up and lightly let her lips brush the scarred knuckles before gently placing them back on his thighs. Noel's head was spinning, and not only from rakesh when it hit him she was opening up to him at last; now he could get somewhere in solving this case! "Let me call Hope and let him know I won't be back in tonight. I've been wanting to try the dojo and assess your skill set. Maybe you can let me stretch you out tribal style? It will help with the extensions, which were graceful, by the way. Where did you learn?" _Baste it, she was like flowing water, why didn't you say that? _

"I suppose you might know the dancer Patanga? She was at the cultural exposition 4 years ago and I thought it would help me get stronger abdominals, and I just liked it. There are a few half-bloods that have come and gone at Valhalla, too. They tend to drift to the Oasis, because Mustapha pays better for traditional. As for a traditional tribal stretch, the only thing I know is the Puja – do me a favor there? Just don't leave me unable to work tomorrow night, ok?"

"Puja is a good start." He caught himself smiling at her, then boldly said: "Puja can feel smooth as silk with the right hands to guide you; I promise anyone else will feel like sandpaper after me, just you see, Lightning."

_Smooth as silk? Hmmm…we'll see. I wonder if that was a flirt? That skin certainly looks like it'd feel like silk._ Lightning rose & walked back to the open doors of her bedroom, her hips conscious of the fact Noel had noticed them even if the owner didn't. "I'm going to get some sleep. As for your bed, just go thorough those doors, there's sheets & pillows in the ottoman, the toilet is on the left side of the kitchen door and there's tea above the stove, if you want it. Sleep well, Noel Kreiss. I'll murder you in the morning!"

Somehow, the darkness around his heart was dispelled and he turned in lighthearted at the thought he'd show her what getting murdered was about or at least keep those hips from shimmying for anyone's eyes but his. Oh yes, he'd noticed her.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

_Author's note: Regarding Taqsim – This is a beautiful fluid movement in traditional bellydance, emphasizing the hips. More commonly spelt as Taksim, the movement, when broken down, is a slow drop and lift of each hip combining with a slight slide when transferring movement from one side to another; in short, the hips form a gentle figure '8' horizontally. Bellydancers spend their lives perfecting this movement; it is said like a perfect meditation, one never attains heaven/nirvana, but some days are better than others. Taqsim is also defined as a slow emotional, poetic improvised solo in Middle Eastern Music. The dance is often accompanied by the Cifti Telli rhythm, a hypnotic cadence of quick and slow beats. Belly dancing to a Cifti Teli Taksim uses slow, flowing movements that reflect a deep emotional connection to the music._

_The Puja is defined as the act of showing reverence to a god, a spirit, or another aspect of the divine through invocations, prayers, songs, and rituals. An essential part of puja for the Hindu devotee is making a spiritual connection with the divine. Most often that contact is facilitated through an object: an element of nature, a sculpture, a vessel, a painting, or a print. To add to the definition, American Style Tribal Bellydance incorporates a beautiful simple routine to honor the event, which is also called the Puja. Noel's desert nomad ritual is more of a physical stretch & warmup routine for the body, akin to yoga, with a spiritual aspect, honoring the fact one has a body to inhabit and that it is used for the worship of the god. _

Practice was interesting to say the least the next morning; it was a Sunday, and most of Oldtown was passed out from an energetic Saturday night. Noel pushed Lightning as hard as he dared, and found to his secret delight he had an opponent, not a trainee; she had a number of hand to hand moves that caught him; he was better at escaping pins, and had a longer reach with a punch. She owned up to possessing a Blazefire gunsaber, standard military issue; Noel owned a well-stocked arsenal ,including a gunsaber, but he kept a weapon that could kill L'Cie or Fal'Cie on him at all times; it was a custom alloy gladius with a multi bladed double sided greatsword blessed by a priest of Etro; teasingly she insisted on calling it the contraption, much to his insulted pride; he took apart a practice dummy with a few strokes to show her it wasn't all tribal over-decoration, then made her try a kata with it; he was gratified to be able to step up and wrap his arms around her and help her heft the blades; they went through the kata step by step as one, his voice murmuring the commands tenderly as love poetry.

Lightning was elated he was being so much more at ease with her and felt she was really getting somewhere with him; she was warming up to the idea of talking to him about her client list & was prepared to say yes when he asked again. He playfully led her in his daily routine to prepare his body, a series of moves that were not only for warming the muscles, joints and tendons, but a meditation meant to offer Etro gratitude for the body his soul inhabited. The Puja also was a meditation, but more for preparation to dance. Noel kept his promise, the mediation in movement was smooth as silk, and he did his share of spoiling the dancer in Lightning with combinations that made the blood sing as well as sizzle along her limbs. He gently worked with Lightning on the mat, matching her in the extensions, even gracefully sinking into a leg split to the floor to match hers. He was very much at home with his limber body, and the warm-up felt very peaceful with Lightning; desire kept its mouth shut, even when they bent together in a standing back extension and lowered to the floor with the pole hand over hand. "See? Feel the vertebrae loosen as you go down? Now...try your taqsim by contracting the obliques as well as the upper gluteals; that's how you get that rippling movement in this extreme extension…"

Noel slipped out from under, observed Lightning's taqsim and satisfied, began to nod, and was about to say _how beautifully you move, I'd be glad to show you more; maybe I could drop by again after work tonight?_ - then stopped short, shame and embarrassment flooding in his face as Serah's voice said over his shoulder; "Oh wow, Lightning? Are you going to do a client on stage tonight with that move? "

Lightning saw Noel's face change and grow back into a stoic nomad then a dazzled young male as he greeted her sister; she wondered what had brought her sister to set foot in Valhalla, and at this hour. She caught the look in Serah's eyes and her own narrowed in warning; Serah shot her an innocent smile and brightly said to Noel: " I see you've finally got my sister to do some real dancing! Do you know there's a tribal cultural exposition at the college every winter? Why I've seen some of the most beautiful costumes – say, do you think you could help me find one for sis? I think it'd be different, you know, around here – there are some men who do like their presents wrapped!" Charm pouring from her, she slowly drew Noel away like he was under an enchantment; she spent the next half hour getting personally coached by Noel to do the Puja, then did a pretty little traditional dance routine that would have been absolutely charming, had Lightning not known the real reason behind it – to make her sister invisible. Noel was so distracted he totally forgot to even say goodbye to Lightning as the sec men began slowly drifting in for practice, which did not go unnoticed by the crew, who silently showed signs of derision at the shadow hunter. The Valkyrie was their meal ticket, and they all thought Noel was thinking with the wrong head.

When everyone dispersed to the dressing rooms, she drew out her Corps issue gunsaber and began to carefully sharpen it, despite it being professionally sharpened by the weapons master of Valhalla once every six months. She was stoic herself now, her lips firmly straight and her eyes flat with anger. Noel's eyebrow twitched, wondering if she even knew how to pick it up properly as he glanced backwards walking out of the dojo, a light hand on Miss Serah's slim waist; he never saw the neat decapitation of the dummy crudely wrapped in a blue skirt, as his eyes were busy with the ladylike demeanor of one Miss Serah Farron, just as ruthlessly stabbing every man's heart as she daintily , demurely, walked through the bar, delicate as a butterfly.

It really spoiled the day for Lightning and she was a silent ghost drifting around the house, thinking of the scene over and over again. Serah always did that, whenever she showed the slightest interest in the opposite sex. Anyone she liked for herself was invariable charmed away from her side to Serah's ; it was like the old fairytale where the rats followed the piper the minute they heard the music. At first she had shrugged it off, thinking they must not have been interested as much as she'd thought, or were playing nice with her in order to get into her younger sister's pants. She would be irritated and amused by Serah in fits and turns, until she caught Serah lying to a man she had been seeing for a few months straight; Shane cut her dead just on Serah's jealous lie that Lightning was spreading her legs for her Imperate clients. She remembered the tears and the absolute blow out she'd had with Serah and began to be wary of who she introduced to her sister.

But this time she was tired of the Serah-is-love-of-your-life game; Lightning really liked Noel. The comment in the dojo crossed the invisible line from teasing rivalry to denigration and frankly, it hurt. It made her look like a 2 gil bar slut with 20 gil nails, chasing the god Mo'ney at any cost, even her self-respect. She danced for men, yes; but it wasn't prostitution, and that money kept them from the streets or government programs. She knew she was Guardian Corps material, and knew she was a talent. She'd have been an officer by now, if it hadn't been for Serah. Her exasperation segued into resentment, especially after recalling the steady diet of Serah's shite over the past year. The attempted assassinations were grating on her nerves, and she now wondered if it was actually due to some machination of Serah's that had gone awry or one of her jilted lovers – had she been playing at romance with a Fal'Cie?

She painfully admitted to herself she was not her mother, she was far from the gentle woman that never had to raise her voice to be instantly obeyed. She bit her lip, holding back frustrated tears as she also admitted that the parting of their ways was coming soon, if it hadn't already occurred. She didn't even want to look at Serah tonight, she was sure she'd beat the crap out of her alabaster skin just out of jealousy over Noel Kreiss. _Why, Serah? Why is it so important that you ensure everything I want is yours? Yeah, I want him. I'd really like to get to know him, and not just as a lover. I feel like I want to protect him, make him feel lifted up, supported, you know? He makes me feel there's something good and clean left in life. And he's got the balls to stand up to me. But he doesn't stand up you, dear sister; no of them do; they all come crawling to you, and for the life of me, I don't know why. Or what I lack…._ So she waited until she heard the roar of Hope's 'cycle with Noel & Serah pulling up before kicking her 'cycle to life & spun out quietly into the evening air.

_I'm done, Serah. _

She ignored the 5 texts and 6 calls from Noel while she took a long ride; then she relented and sent a single text reminding him it was her night off and to watch over Serah, she was headed to Hope's apartment after a nice dinner with friends. With clothes on. She pulled up on the edge of Oldtown by the old bridge, and sat there watching the lights twinkle on the bridge & the tugboats and barges drift by in the dark oily water, letting her thoughts drift, trying to think through who'd want her dead; she didn't have enemies in Oldtown, unless one counted the petty grievances that came with being a star attraction at a dive like Valhalla; she knew a lot of men felt intimidated by her, but never played any kingpin or client for anything, treated them respectfully and had never taken a lover from the client list.

She placed her first bet on a rival nightclub trying to scare her out of the business, then second, a lover of a kingpin who mistakenly thought she was doing said kingpin on the side. Then the comment about the Fal'Cie and Noel's reaction made her rethink her bets. The attempts were too costly for either kingpins or nightclubs; maybe it had something to do with the Fal'Cie. She was curious about Noel suddenly coming to Academia after shadow hunting for the upper crust, and wondered if it had something to do more with Noel – maybe they were taunting him through the attempts? Or trying to get him cross over to the dark of the street, as he said? Satisfied with her theory, she thought of who would give her info on Noel – or who would know details or the Fal'Cie gossip, and was willing to get her data for enough golden gils.

She threw out Babylon, and a half dozen other Oldtown dens; she settled on the Oasis as most likely, as the girls had thrown a fit at a party in one of Fal'Cie tents at the New year's celebration; Lightning had to step in between Stormy & the girl as the intoxicated Oasis wench had drawn a blade and was out for blood. The owner got into a pissing contest with Lexis over the incident until the police report came out with more than a few personal phone cammed recordings of the incident showing Lightning throwing an Oasis girl into a champagne fountain and deftly plucking the knife from the girl's hand. Some jokester set it to a popular piece of music and it went viral over the phone 'net; the next thing Lexis knew Valhalla was packed with men with knives hoping to get dominated by her sooty winged angel in disguise. It was bad. The owner of the Oasis had tried to wave money in front of her, and was an extravagant flirt. Mustapha. He had quite a clientele list.

She decided to drop in at the Oasis and pay the owner a visit. She ran by Valhalla and picked up a few things to motivate the conversation and dropped a word in Snow's ear; then set her sight on the lurid green palm trees of the Oasis sign in the distance and roared off of the 'cycle, never noticing the texts and calls had stopped and a matching green light was blinking below the rear tail light.

The Oasis was packed, and the bar sec men were busy holding down a team of blitzballers, so she simply slid past them and drew the beaded curtain back to enter the private party area, intent on the gilt door to the left in the back. A pair of matched sec men, well beefed and wearing the ridiculous nomad pants in gold with crossed bandoliers stood guard as usual; Mustapha al'Abrim liked big men to make himself look more leanly elegant to his clientele. She sent her name in, and was waved past the guards. Mustapha looked up from his cigarette, and smiled with a wave to the forehead with the traditional tribal greeting. "Well, my friend, it's been so long since New Year's Day! You've decided to take me up on my offer? Or have you decided I'm your type after all? " He languidly gestured to his private stock, typed in a few commands on the tablet in front of him, then gave her his full attention.

"Mustapha, you know I'll always turn to you if Lexis falls! But you know, someone's got to watch out for that old woman, to make sure she doesn't sell off to some damn Fal'Cie who'll sanitize the place and make it a tourist attraction! Anyway, the visit's more of a pick your brains, for which I am prepared to be quite grateful for…say like a sponsor for your next slot at the tribal exposition at the college? "

"I'm all appetite, my dear warrior – but I don't need a sponsor. I need girls who can actually dance the crapping traditional way, not shake their asses and jiggle their jewels – know any? The last lot I interviewed can't even taqsim, for Etro's sake!"

" I can ask Keisha, I've seen her do a few movements."

"How's the nomad boy doing on his shadow hunt? I bet he could taqsim, he's pureblood if you go by looks alone. Does he like men? Or perhaps can't make up his mind? No? Not even a little curious? Damn. All the good ones are taken."

Lightning sighed and almost snorted: "You have no idea how much I agree with that one, Moosta-man. In fact, I'd even drink to that. Anyway…I am kind of hunting for information myself tonight; since you're half nomad, maybe you'd know more about why Noel Kriess the shadow hunter is not hunting shadows for the Fal'Cie and working for us mere Pulsians? "

"That might lead to more questions you don't want to know the answers to because they might kill you if they even suspect you might know something, warriorette. But I'll do my best to give you what I know. And it will cost you. I need a favor. "

Mustapha drew his chair close, his face almost in hers, just like any nomad, just like…Noel. "A Sec man needs to be made an example of. He's been putting his hands and Etro-ever-loving staff of Odin into my staff. It does not please me. Had he been in the desert, I could just cut off what offends me, but unfortunately someone will take exception to nomad ways. How racist, eh? I'd ask Ruby, but damn, he knows she can use a gunblade. Your role can be a new hire tonight. It'll take all of 1 set dancing and 30 minutes after. You bait him, and my men will do the rest. You can even take a kick or two if you like. Fair price?"

"Let me see the fool first."

The owner tapped the tablet and brought up the live cams recording the rooms and picked one; a few more taps and strokes expanded the cam to full size and she got a good eyeful of him in action. She nodded her agreement after observing the young bully in action, thinking he could bang a girl in the club without being observed somehow.

"I'll deliver the info via your phone, but I will tell you briefly your hunter was a L'Cie candidate and he refused. Another Fal'Cie sent by Etro stepped in and sent him away. The candidacy nomination came from a Fal'Cie servant who was revealed to be a servant of Lindzei."

She let the breath she'd been holding out with a soft whew, then things started to fall into place. And she now had a theory about her own assaults. A curious sense of relief washed over her as the nameless dread , the sense of wrongness about the attempts now had a name. She knew without any doubt Noel's arrival was too perfectly timed to be coincidence. She'd learn more later. She thanked her host then steered the conversation to more normal things, bemoaning the price of liquor and the idle gossip of the nightclub circuit which he enjoyed so much. Then he set up the baited trap for one Jed Riserbach, Sec man and soon to be ex-employee of the Oasis.

The whole incident turned out rather well, the sec men were more than ready to make an example of the greedy fool; she was introduced as a new girl, and put in his section; of course, he had to try for her tips first, which led to his real price: he wanted pussy. She pretended to be angry, then cowed as he blocked the exit back into the Oasis from the back alley. It was like a box canyon, no way out for a person walking, only velocycle or heli-flyer parking. She pretended to flit like a trapped moth, he fell for it and walked away from the property line. She let herself be caught, her hair pulled, her face slapped and pushed down over a 'cycle; as his hand went for his pants, she simply twisted, dropped, rolled and then kicked him in the balls then in the head with a savage efficiency. She then lazily stretched, waved at the winking red camera eye and dragged his face up to show Mustapha the damage. A few seconds later the sec men swarmed the back door and simply became a thrashing mob of batons, legs and knives as she leisurely walked away, ignoring the screams. She never noticed the crouching figure on the tank of the velocycle five parking spots away, sword slung on the back, silent as only hunters could be.

Noel was disgusted with the scene, having only seen actions and not heard conversations. But he was impressed with how quickly she'd dropped the rapist; he turned the observations of Lightning over and over in his mind as he fell asleep; why did she lie about where she was to him? why did she go dance for a rival club for only 1 set and why did she act like a silly, stupid sheep of a woman around the bar sec in the alley? None of it added up when compared to her streetwise savvy behavior at Valhalla.

He kept his distance the next day, but was determined to confront her and get to the bottom of it, so he ever so politely asked her for a private business meeting after work, intending to be the bastard and clear up what appeared to be a two timing dancer who'd gotten herself into trouble with one or both the club owners and was covering up said trouble as unexplained attempts on her life and her sister's life. Then he'd demand his fee, and walk out of her life. But not Serah's life. He was going to rescue her. He just knew by the way she had looked at him today she looked to him as her protector, her trust was in him. and Etro, she was so lovely, he wanted to simply crush her to his six foot frame and kiss those palest rose lips into the deep red of passion; _it's the upper lip that gives away passion, not the lower_ his desire mockingly reminded him. Oh yes, he'd wanted to kiss Lightning, but he convinced himself it was just the physical resemblance that attracted – how could any man love the heart of a woman who could savagely kick the hell out of a man just for some sex she didn't want to put out?

_You liar!_ His desire complained. _Every hunter secretly desires to be the hunted. Serah will never do. Choose the huntress. LiarLiarliarliarliarliar….._

The 2nd floor door was kicked open again with a bang.

The fight lasted all of 15 minutes, and Noel found himself rapidly outclassed in the arena of bastardism by one Lightning Farron; he had no idea until now what Hope had meant by the words 'force of nature'; he'd gone in haughty, direct, eyes blazing with truths and she slapped him in face with his own mistaken theory, shredded his argument in four sentences and made him feel like an idiot for not just going into the club and asking Mustapha what Lightning was doing at the Oasis last night. And what was the woman really losing it over? She was lividly pissed he had been there, and not lifted a finger to help her! Oddly, the transmitter tail was blown off like it was nothing, but the verbal thrashing he received for letting his client handle a nasty piece of work all by herself was stinging. She went into a scathing monologue about his supposed protective skills, which made him start tuning her out; his eyes stayed on the desk while his mind started to wander.

He saw the phone downloading a mass of data, blinking blue for at least a minute and her hand snatching it up and turning it face down during her tirade about how useless men were , especially when she needed a little back up. With a flood of relief, he realized she had gone to the Oasis for information, and paid for it in the best coin she had – herself. She had done the owner a favor for information. Everything fell into place. He serenely let her rant and scream for 2 minutes more, then very calmly apologized and asked her forgiveness, but next time, take him along no matter what or where she was going.

He politely shook hands Academia-style with her after her startled acceptance of his apology, then to enforce his point, he informed her in his softest, nicest 'yes ma'am' voice and melting cobalt cake-icing eyes: "Lightning, I was bound to protect my clients with my life on oath of Etro; but how can I protect the woman, if you insist on being the warrior?" Upon seeing the hard aqua eyes change into complete interest in what was before her, his desire evilly pushed his will aside and brought the hand to his heart; "I can protect you…just…let me. Let me in. " The lush bow of her mouth softened and the mask slipped, letting something of her true face show through; he almost forgot Serah's face, gazing at the limpid pools of aqua holding the first glimmer of trust, until his cell rang with Serah's distinctive ringtone in the now-silent office. Then it was gone, and so was she, the door swinging.

The ride home was a bit emotionally edgy, even after Noel grabbed her hands and pulled them back to his waist; she sat bolt upright, not wanting to touch him, as the way he jumped to answer Serah's call rankled; so did her quickness to be charmed by his eyes and voice_…and that 'fair prince'act, oh Etro, how could I fall for THAT after all this time? It's because you want to fall! He's like the rock you want to cling to when all else fails, because you never had anyone else interested in what's behind the mask of Lightning the Valkyrie._

He deliberately leaned back into her and teasingly made the 'cycle weave back and forth until she made a sound and grabbed onto the belt; she found herself thrusting her chin on his shoulder and leaning back into him, allowing herself to feel charmed, feminine…trusting, even if it was just for the short space of a lousy ride back home. That line and that hand on his heart made her feel…well, let's just say she hadn't felt she could lean on him until…now. She made up her mind and decided to bring him next time she was out & about; maybe even invite him in tonight.

Once they arrived at her place, the dynamics changed as he saw Serah; it was like she hypnotized him and suddenly Lighting just didn't exist. Stunned, Lightning watched as he left with Serah immediately sucked into escorting her to some party. They didn't come in until near dawn, quietly giggling as they tried to move about quietly and failed, Serah's feet knocking into the doorframes of the doors as Noel carried her very inebriated body in the house & into her bedroom. Lightning had tossed and turned half the night until she realized she was jealous of Serah again, because she was alone again. She had hoped she could simply invite him to sit on the back deck and just talk…that four letter word that leads to all sorts of things she avoided with clients, like intimacy, personal feelings, the real woman under the mask.

She had wanted to tell him about the data from the Oasis, tell him everything she feared about Serah's doings, and what she theorized was happening; she hoped it would get him to see her as an equal, a peer, not just a bar girl…_no, that's not all_ her inner voice reminded her; _you wanted to cook him dinner, and get him into the outdoor bath and then get him close enough to kiss….that's what you want, really want. You want him to fall in love with you, he's what you really want, isn't it? Love. Adoration. Not flowers or romance; someone you can lean on because you're so damned tired of being in charge all the time. Why is it men want to baste me, but no one wants to love me? Etro, why? What evil have I done that deserves all this passion, but never earns love or trust or strength when you are weak and can't go on? That's why I'm going crazy for the man, aren't I?_ _He's like a rock –anyone who's got the sand to stand up to a Fal'Cie and refuse them has got what I need – courage. That alone makes him the most beautiful man I've ever seen. _

_I am getting weaker, my influence with Serah is growing weaker, and something evil is growing stronger out there. Something is just not right when Noel is around Serah; he seems…dazed; no one else exists, like he was under a spell…I wonder if it's trying to rope in Noel…is it just a manipulation to steer us into the waiting jaws of a monster? _

With a horrible sense of clarity, she knew right then and there she had the root cause of what was bothering her so all this time. Something was influencing her sister and it was evil. And it was winning her. What was worse, she suspected Noel was an unwitting pawn, a failed L'Cie candidate who was the real focus of this strange game. Serah, her beautiful baby sister was just a catalyst to transform her desert-bred shadow hunter into a dark L'Cie, or worse, punish him for refusing. She shuddered at the imagined terrors of serving a dark lord against one's will, being forced to choose one's own evil, hammered by pain and evil will into a blood sucking killing machine. The assassination attempts were just warnings, decoys, herding them in behaving certain way. Or making a certain choice. _No. Fuck the Fal'Cie. I am winning this war, and be damned to anyone that stands in my way._

Lightning found Hope the next day, and simply entrusted him with the off the wall theory from start to finish; he carefully listened as he always did without much comment, then started analysis with her, going to the late afternoon; together they'd fleshed out the theories and discarded the hypotheses that no longer worked until they'd agreed on the final frame work. Serah was being influenced; to what end they did not know, but it was likely it was working to pull Noel back in, or it could be to push Lightning to make a choice or give into a darker side of the soul; two of the attempts could be laid at the influencer's door; one could not; the sisters Farron could be L'Cie candidates for different reasons, but Lightning should have received a nomination before Serah; she was a true talent, Serah was not. Hope insisted leaving Serah in as a possible candidate, just on blood alone; she may have some hidden talent the Fal'Cie sensed.

Hope suspected Fal'Cie involvement from another angle, the remaining attempt was too smooth, and happened well after the first two; it was copycat in nature. He was researching that and was waiting for a packet of data from the Imperate archives in the next couple of weeks. "Trust Noel, it's ok to lean on him. He may be with Serah more, because he unconsciously feels the pull of the darker side of Fal'Cie and needs to extricate her first. Love is only one of many paths to light, Lightning." _…you never see how he looks at you, Light…how he follows you around, how he always has to know where you are, who you're with, no matter where you go…trust me, your kind of inner light attracts him far more than your sister's little walk into the dark side. He'll hunt you for his own sooner or later. I just know it. It's like he was…well…matched to you. He'd been through hell too, parentless, tortured by L'Cie, yet you both bloomed into these two incredibly strong people with an unerring moral compass; it's like you both get it straight from the god._

Lightning pulled out her phone after throwing herself on Hope's couch facing the window while the sun set and read the data Mustapha had sent, then silently handed it over to Hope:

_Noel Kreiss Shadow Hunter took oath on reaching his 16__th__ year; he was a legacy nominee, as his father was a shadow hunter himself before the great purges. The line is purebred, he is the 5__th__ sheik of Tribe Arran. However, there is no officially arranged match registered, so the line may be passed over soon, as he is the last living male heir to the name. His official record is noted as exemplary, no honors, 6 bonuses awarded, and the House Imperate itself has used his services four times. Unofficially, he has been noted for brilliance, and brutal efficiency in sword. _

_He was contracted by House of Fal'Cie Paddra to hunt for a child of the family, a fifteen year old seeress who'd been abducted by the child's guardian Caius. The hunt went through a series of time gates, as Caius had disturbed the timeline deliberately to create series of time paradoxes that would provide hiding places; he intended to keep Paddra Nsu Yuel from ever reaching her true potential and eliminated a Fal'Cie who had been chosen to be Yuel's mate; the killing produced further disruptions not only in timelines but the breeding lines of the Fal'Cie. Kreiss was clever enough to solve the paradoxes, eliminating all the loopholes in time one by one until he found the pair, but was unable to bring Caius back; he deliberately pushed Kreiss into fighting & impaled himself on Noel's first sword and told him his life was a lie with his dying breath, charging him to guard Yuel. Kreiss guarded Yuel for nearly 6 months Pulse time while jumping them both back through time gates; in that time Yuel had tried to escape several times, crying for Caius. The shadow hunter simply thought it Stockholm syndrome, where the victim identifies with a captor & bonds. It wasn't until they got back did Kreiss realize the Fal'cie family had lied and were servants of Lindzei the snake, and Yuel was simply escaping an evil fate to be seeress and sacrifice to the snake; she ran to him, and the Fal'Cie's family servant followed. The servant for some unknown reason was instructed to offer L'Cie candidacy to Noel, using Yuel as part of the price. Kreiss refused; the servant obeyed its instructions to the letter and took to true form, biting the shadow hunter, poisoning him after trying to crush the life out of Kreiss. The Fal'Cie desire for atoning loss of face by pain and blood was overridden by a servant of Etro, who witnessed the duel, then extricated the shadow hunter at the goddess' desire. The High Council Cabinet gave no sanction or fault to the shadow hunter, but sealed him to silence about the incident to the general populace and released him from duty 'until such time had passed and his harmony of soul and heart was restored'. It was hinted they would reconsider a L'Cie candidacy at a future time; fee paid was the full talent of gils, in gold. _

Hope was still after he read the facts; he'd heard rumors that shadow hunters were tough bastards, but now he had proof. He was well aware of the follies and pride of his class, and often shielded his more common acquaintances from the ruthlessness of the Fal'Cie, leaving them an enigma for the questioner to solve for themselves. He was proud that Light had not batted an eye or buckled under fear when the truth was in her face; he never hid anything from her, and was glad to not have to. He now saw Light's instinct was dead on; it was about Noel as much as it was about Serah & Light.

He was suddenly distracted by a light kiss dropped on his head, the affectionate gesture sending a tendril of blooming warmth to his core; his emerald eye lightened to leaf green as he breathlessly asked: "What was that for, angel?"

"I'm going shopping. For a dress. Maybe it's time I took you up on a drink at Andresyr's. Perhaps we will catch the eye of a Fal'Cie, yes?"

"I'm all appetite." He flashed a feral white grin that matched hers and decided pretty girls weren't lacking in his life, at least tonight.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

_Author's notes: Full credit to The Weekend for the lyrics 'Wicked Games'. Again, there is no intent of profit or gain, unless one counts a slight notoriety as a gain. Please be advised the lyrics are explicit, and not for the gentle at heart; but then, this part of the story is based on angst and emotional pain; the music was a perfect fit; You Tube has several professional pole dancers using it as performance music (View at your own risk). Muse thought it would inspire a better scene for the heartbreak of Noel in the next chapter, and hopefully, this sets the scene with a ring of truth that we all hear when we are hurt by a love that is a lie… _

That night, The pair descended on Andresyr's and not only drank, but ate dinner as the roil and rash of Pulsian life washed around them. Eventually, they made a connection and a conversation took place in a corner of a party tent that would have been labeled romantic, had there been two occupants instead of three. Then the conversation moved to Valhalla, on the second floor, where they all lounged elegantly, their pallid tints thrown into greater contrast by the dark décor of charcoal walls, black velvet drapes and smoky mirrors.

"I need to ask for your favor in one thing. I want to know where I can find a Fal'Cie. I do not intend death or harm, I just want to reclaim something of mine. He has it."

"What's the name?"

"Barthandeus."

The hand stopped swirling the glass for a moment and and a pair of moonstone grey irises expanded, changing the eye color to a murky black. "It…is possible."

"What coin do you prefer I pay in, Lord?" as an eyebrow lazily arched upward over a wary aquamarine gem.

The hand proffered a silver-edged card and just as lazily grinned at the beauty. "It would please me if you attended. I would hope my tent would be remembered this festival."

"Would you like the entire team of Valkyries? I can get Lexis to let them go, provided we have security. Oh, & I have a personal bodyguard –Noel Kreiss Shadow Hunter. He goes where I go. Any problem with him doing his job at the tent?"

"Noel Kreiss? Really? You must have a hive full of honey, little bee, to afford that for personal security. He is quite good. I do not forsee any problem; there will be no Fal'Cie attending, though I would not surprised if a few ghouls were sent to spy. Hmm…that may be a problem if he is recognized. However, some guests will be in costume from the masquerade at the palace; if he is clever and keeps his face hidden, it will be no issue."

"Done. Send me your Major Domo, we Valkyries can enhance your theme. Lord? One question: Do you wish me to be your personal Valkyrie for the evening? Or do you wish something more discreet?"

"Heavens, Lightning. I can answer that with only an enthusiastic yes! However, be mindful my fiancée and family will be in attendance; I truly do not expect anything more than my rights as a host."

" Ah. Whom is the lucky one?" She allowed a smile to grace her lips at last.

"Attend, and see!" The princeling pulled his helmet back on and strode to the door behind Hope's lean form, then nodded once and bowed with a flourish as he exited.

Lightning mockingly returned the bow royally, hands folded palm together and brought to forehead, then flashed her 1000 watt smile, much to the enjoyment of everyone in sight. She waited until the princeling banged the 2nd floor entrance door shut, then ran to Lexis, who screeched at the sight of the card. A patron from the upper crust, and House Imperate at that, was what every Oldtowner dreamed of.

Two weeks later everyone was going through a final practice and the practice dojo was full of girls practicing, tweaking costumes, sharpening sheath knives, and the 1,000 things performers do before a show. Noel had taken four men to the upper city party tents tonight to get a feel for the area; the festival had started yesterday, and would run a solid week, culminating in a procession to the temple on the last day to witness the antique fertility rite deemed necessary for Pulse by the Fal'Cie since old days.

He had almost laughed at Lightning's invitation, remembering the endless parties and masquerades he'd attended as a shadow hunter; thinking she was whoring herself like every other Oldtowner during Festival, he haughtily looked down his delicate nose at her, but kept his mouth shut once she made it clear he was going everywhere she was that night. In fact, she dragged him just about everywhere she went the past two weeks. He had no idea how much work she did for Valhalla and how well connected she was in Oldtown until lately; she ran him at a blistering pace, up at dawn to practice dance, followed by defense, followed by lunch with a variety of people from costume designers to the princelings major domo, then calls to the girls and Lexis. She planned and organized the entire act from the logistics to the music, and still managed to perform 3 nights a week. He respected her sense of command and was rather impressed with her, despite the rather seedy reason behind the preparations.

Noel kept trying to convince himself, especially his vicious little voice of desire, that she was just selling her assets, just in a slightly more refined manner, and that she was nothing compared to her innocent, lovely, charming sister. But at night he would wrestle with his primal attraction, sigh over his constantly crushed illusions of her depravity as he watched Lightning endlessly flirt, dance and socialize, all without having spread her legs for any man, much less allow anyone a kiss. He was her constant companion, and as far he could tell, he was the only man she allowed to touch her past a handshake, unless you counted Hope, her cousin. It was a puzzle: How did a woman with the most notorious reputation ever manage to stay on top of the wildest club in Oldtown without being a totally burnt out, over-basted, artificially glamoured up little trollop? It was like a masquerade, except the glimpses behind the masks were not what he expected.

Part of him had started to cry out softly for Lightning inside; he fought it tooth and nail but was quite aware he selfishly missed the time they had previously spent alone. When riding Lightning about, he would find himself making excuses to keep her by him a little longer, or pretend to be more critical of her puja than necessary in the early morning, just to feel her body on his in some fashion; he even boldly shook his head during a group practice and made her do taqsim with him, much to the surprise of the other girls. Shocked, they watched open-mouthed as the sinfully gorgeous nomad impatiently pulled Lightning's derriere up against his own slim hips and hypnotically began moving with the grace of a serpent , counting the beat in his own tongue and then firmly lecturing her on the importance of fluidity of movement in the lower hips. After the giggles died down, they realized he was the real deal and bombarded Noel with demands for more demos of traditional moves, since the theme of the tent was a tribal primitive festival. Lightning had planned a hot performance a full 12 minutes long, and costume changes after into Valhalla Valkyrie gear for any cammed opportunities for the girls, then a 3rd change into anonymous street dress for the transport back to deter any harassment from the festival crowds.

Spirits were high as they arrived at the party tent of House Del'Arribiata; the Major Domo had planned well, and the tent was a clever mockup of a primitive tribal tent, with striped silks, a plethora of divans piled high with pillows, twiddly beaten metal trays, pierced metal lanterns and about 500 or so of the city's Elite, all foolishly, foppishly costumed in desert robes or bits of fur and garish beads. There was even a pretty little mock-up of an oasis, complete with miniature palms, fountains that tinkled colored water and a larger oasis of intoxicants in the front by the door. Everything was gemmed, plumed, inlaid, painted and gilded in a wealth of primitive energetic tribal designs, but as it had been chosen and arranged with a master hand, it all somehow rang true and became the talk of the Festival.

Of course, it was an interesting take to see so many rarified personages playing at being tribal or primitive; more than once the shadow hunter stifled laughter behind his draped keffeiyeh at hearing some of the chatter; the Valhalla security was all connected by headset , so they could all hear the attempts and flirtations that the Valhalla girls received as they made their way around the perimeter of the tent to the performance entrance. Then uddenly, they were there, and the lights dimmed dramatically and torches flared in the sudden dark of the tent; Lightning's voice over the headset said: "Showtime, Ladies – and Shadow hunter, you and Etro watch our backs." Then the tent was filled with 7 women trilling in zagareet and jingling finger cymbals, soon joined by a drunken, intoxicated party yelping in delight as the pretty group of women broke into bold tribal movement , silver coins and brocades sparkling and winking in the ruddy torchlight.

It was an astounding success; the choreography was just varied enough to keep interest high, yet blended the seven women into a cohesive whole; each had a moment where they stepped forward from the swaying, shimmying group and shone, each performing unique dance movement that emphasized their unique charm. They circled the low divans that held the host party and each smiled and bowed as they spun by, then playfully ended the show throwing up small balls that exploded with a puff of smoke and small flare of light , dropping to the floor to disappear for a few seconds, djinni-like. The princeling was well pleased, and the Major Domo drew up proudly, signaling the music to segue into a hot rhythm, drawing the occupants onto the small dance floor, while the Valkyries quickly changed and mingled with the crowd, posing for pictures or cams, or collecting the many personal chip-cards of admirers, held out by the dozen. The Valhalla sec unit was on the Valkyries like they were royalty, and no one was behaving badly, so they all grinned into their mics as Noel informed them that they were a crack team tonight…and that Major Domo had just delivered a bonus of 3,500 Gil just for the girls. After stowing the cash in the transport and checking in on everyone's location, Noel made his way back to the tent and began to look for Lightning; he'd been oddly ill at ease; there was no problem, and that is precisely what bothered him; it was going too well.

The primitive beat of the rhythm invaded everyone's blood and soon the tent was a seething mass of dancing, sweating bodies; a woman boldly raised her colorful pretend-ragged tribal skirts of a hundred bright silk scarves to a lean man in a black leather loincloth while shaking her hips in an imitation of tribal shimmy, and suddenly the crowd ate it up; the pair joined and she wrapped her legs around his waist; he carried her to a table where they proceeded to gyrate & thrust , then stripped to consummate a far fiercer dance of passion; Lighting was slowly moving to the beat at the back of the crowd, watching like a hawk, almost shocked, but not quite; she knew the pair had to have been hired for just that purpose: the start of an orgy. Still, it was exciting; the groans of the men overlaid with the high coos of the women were a sensual counterpoint to the low, heavy, sexy, conga-esque beat of the drums providing the soundtrack to the sex act being performed on the table. Noel watched Lightning in the shadows as he always did; he inhaled deeply, catching a faint floral scent wafting in the air under the smell of 500 people, tobacco smoke, alcohol, sweat, incense torches and city exhaust fumes. He exhaled slowly, his body warming slightly as a wave of relaxation stole over him.

The primitive beat invaded his blood until desire sang; he followed her with hungry eyes, mentally murdering anyone lucky enough to dance with his private obsession. He started wishing for one good beat and no partner, so he could show her what it really felt like to pair off for a tribal mating dance. City people had no idea how to move to drums, he thought and stifled a snort of laughter watching a silver-haired young blood trying to dance in front of his obsession, clad in a foppish pink striped silk burnoose and tripping over the sash. The memory of moving his hips in time with hers and bending back, back until they reached the floor was driving him insane. She seemed to be a taunting dream in the tent, always just in sight in her gorgeous silver and black tribal bellydance costume, but always out of reach. He hated the way he wanted her.

So he began to stalk her, hunt her, run her down to ground; he didn't care anymore, no one knew him in the crowd, no one would know, except the two of them. Noel kept moving closer to her in the crowd, his face still hidden in the carefully draped keffeyieh until he stole close enough to stand directly behind her; he could feel her body heat, smell the extravagant cactus flower perfume she wore tonight. Her icy rose hair shimmered, and he longed to bury his face in the wildly mussed tresses and pull her to him; the pair wildly basting each other in a practiced set of positions had excited him as well as Lightning; the beat and throb of the drums mixed with the indefinable something in the air until he was becoming dizzy; he blinked as the woman's face suddenly seemed like Lightning's, and the proud male body was his own bronzed lean specimen, it was them bending over the table, then on the tabletop, wickedly basting each other in full view of a hungry crowd and somehow enjoying the hell out of it; she was everything he wanted, so hot, so unashamed of her desire for him, so…Etro-damn, he wanted it, _wanted_ it, _wanted_ her and be damned to anyone who stood in his way. He inhaled sharply to gather her scent under the sexy perfume and caught the sweetish scent of vanilla, then electrified into total sobriety as he realized the air had been seeded with a soporific.

He pounced on Lightning, yanked her back and yelped in his headset to pull the girls out before they were sucked in or worse, raped. Lightning started to fight her captor until she heard his voice, then relaxed, letting his long sinewed arms hold her against his torso; she slowly realized they were safe, beyond the tent's perimeter. It was dimly lit, and the city traffic noises could be heard floating up, underlaid with a dull roar of a festival crowd in the distance. She expected him to let go, and respond to the chorus of reports that the six girls were safe and piled into the transport-cum-dressing room-cum –sec command post. But no; Noel kept hold of her, his body trembling, his male excitement clear under the loose tribal clothing he wore. He was gasping softly, repeating a set of phrases in a tribal dialect over and over until his body calmed; she caught the word _walah_, which she knew – it meant amorous rapture. Was he feeling desire? _For her?_ Or was he so disgusted he was praying to Etro to calm himself?

She responded and gave the acknowledgement, & covering for Noel, said he was with her, but had his mic knocked off extricating her. They were 500 feet away from her velocycle parked in the back. She switched off her mic and then stood absolutely still, mentally walking through the situation that just happened; she wondered how he had gotten to her so quickly, the last place she had seen him was by the side wall by the fake oasis – he had to have been right behind her, watching over her as she drifted through the crowd. _Etro-damn, he really must be some shadow hunter if he can move like that in a festival crowd; I didn't see him at all…_she shivered slightly as the thought of her shadow hunter hunting her in this crowd evolved in her mind's eye; she knew she should be frightened, but her gut instinct responded with just a warm ripple of desire. _Maybe he was more attracted than he was willing to admit? Or was he drugged? He must_ _have gotten hit with a lungful of happy dust before anyone else did, how else could he recognize the scent?_

Noel was still desperately hanging on to her, warm breath stirring the tumble of hair by her ear as he continued to breathe his tribal mantra under his breath, still trying to clear his head. She calmly waited for about a minute more, then firmly turned around, leaned into the lean frame - _oh, walah, the ecstasy_, then deliberately tilted her face up and gave him the lightest brush of soft rose lips against the darker rose of his; looking up under lowered eyelashes she could tell he had flushed, his cheeks stained coral and his body had responded again, his erect sex burning through the wrapped pants. She spoke sternly to keep the amusement out of her voice: "Nope – you still have a snoot full of happy dust. No way are you driving tonight, shadow hunter. Give me the keys." _And if you still want to kiss me after 30 minutes of city air at 250 KPH, I'll let you._

He dug them out and silently held them dangling from his finger; as she moved to take them his arm shot up; as she lightly jumped to snatch them, he wrapped the other arm around her waist and pulled her back to him; the key laden arm almost leisurely wrapped around the back of her neck and he bent her back until she was almost lying back in his arms; however, his gaze was anything but amorous; angry they were, and full of disdain. "Tempt me? Kiss me in the dark like I'm some nameless body to be used and tossed after festival? Just who do you think you are, Lightning Farron?"

He angrily wiped her lip gloss off his mouth and spat on the ground, but kept hold of her waist with a dangerous glint in his eye; she let her eyes harden to aquamarine gems as she felt a fight coming on and was not in the mood to be gentle with a stoned, horny nomad in a snit. She hooked a heel around his ankle and shoved him off her, grabbing the keys off his finger as he tumbled to the ground. She didn't pause to look back and rapidly made her way through the parked transports to her 'cycle; she'd just thrown a shapely leg over the seat when she was forcibly yanked off. Lightning threw her best right hook and elbow jab, but Noel twisted like a cobra; he tightened his arms and picked her up bodily, striding back into the hard lights of the tent, jerking her face to his. His eyes shone with a wild animal light as he ever so lightly laid a hand on her throat as he said with a white hot passion: "Oh Habibi, if I ever decide to end my virgin state and take a lover, it won't be in the dark, it'll be in the full light of day!" He kissed her savagely, his teeth biting her lower lip, drawing blood as he shoved her away. Just as savagely he hissed: "But it will not be with someone like a damned pole dancing slut from a drinking hell!"

The Valkyrie charged in, backhanded the drugged nomad across the mouth and swung her hand again to deliver a ringing slap to his face. She coldly informed him: "I'll consider that the drugs talking, but if you ever disrespect me again, I'll take that knife of yours and make you the woman you dream of." She arrogantly, leisurely, turned away from Noel spitting blood and gasping, then tossed a sharp retort over her shoulder: "I happen to believe in waiting for the right one too, and guess what, oh Habibi? You're sure as Etro-basting hell not the right one tonight! I'd sooner go fuck a Fal'Cie!"

That was like a bucket of cold water on Noel's psyche; it cut right through the runaway synthetic lust running rampant in his veins; what was he doing in this place, surrounded by all these people openly basting like there was no tomorrow? Who was looking at him…looking at him with her? He turned white under the golden skin as he realized they were in a public place where anyone could be a ghoul and slamming a tanned hand over her mouth, he whispered in her ear: "Don't say that! You have no idea! We leave NOW!"

He nearly ran with her in tow out of the tent, then sighed in relief as he realized they had been pretty much ignored, as most of the tent was in the throes of lust; his passion also had been dunked in the same cold water as he rethought his actions and words, now seeing he was way, WAY out of line with this beautiful woman who was in his care, his client for Etro's sake! He was almost in tears as he shook her, and continued in a near frenetic tone: "Lightning, never say that again – Etro, the Fal'Cie will tear your soul apart and suck you dry. I sure as hell do not want you to travel that road. You are so…so damn beautiful, it attracts…you're just like your nickname…everything wants to come to the light. Even the evil within us." He drew a shuddering breath, looked in the tent again and now shamed, he finished with: "Look, even I am made of light and shadow - Forgive my evil, Lightning. I will _never_ touch you without your permission again. I- I shouldn't even think of you as anything but my client."

She tilted her head and merely said: "Lips don't lie, brother." She sighed then spoke again with a quieter note: "I didn't say you were evil; I said you weren't right, tonight. You're pumped full, Noel. Aphrodisiacs and neural receptor drugs. It's pretty common in Oldtown; I just didn't expect it here in his tent tonight. Luckily for you, and the rest of the male population of Academia tonight, I happen to prefer my Eros with unclipped wings, so to speak. Now give me the keys. You're not driving. And you'd better hang on."

By the time they got back to her place, he had unbent enough to forget about his outburst for about 10 minutes at a time. She cheerfully teased him to set him at ease, recounted a few close encounters at other parties, and before he knew it, she had him laughing at himself instead of slinking off in shame; suddenly he saw a glimpse of what Hope loved about the woman. She faced life head on, and didn't back down one bit from what she felt was right. He saw a gleam of genuine kindness in her even when she was cracking jokes about the stoned look on his face when he was about to kiss her. She even hugged him goodnight, and quietly said: "Thanks for pulling me out of there." He before he knew it he kissed her again, but softly, lightly as a shy child.

"Now. That was a kiss." She murmured walking to her bedroom; he tucked an arm under his head as he hungrily watched her glorious hips undulate from the couch. She throatily laughed , her voice floated on the soft night air: "Good night, oh Habibi."

And again, Noel realized how lacking beautiful women were in his life. He punched the pillow twice.

Noel lay there in the dark, the ocean breeze stirring the curtains as he debated many times over what to do – he wanted to go to her, and confess he'd been biased against her due to her profession, but thought he'd get punched for alluding to her current job as less than an honest living; he thought about making some romantic gesture, like desert poetry, or be primal, just take off everything and just get in her bed, but again thought it would land him a punch in the face; he was on the brink of just breaking the law about self-pleasure and doing a rather disgusting act on her couch to alleviate his out of control desire for the rose haired demoness sleeping soundly in the next room, but was interrupted by the front door quietly snicking open. Two figures silhouetted against the dim street lights in the doorframe. The taller one huskily whispered at the slim figure in its arms: "Let me stay the night –I'll love you until morning light, my angel. Don't you want me too?"

The smaller slim figure made to detach itself as it said in a sweet belling voice: "Your amorous intentions always fade with the morning light, Imalde; it was a nice time at festival. Maybe we'll have another date before festival ends, ok?"

A growl of utter frustration was the answer and the shadows became a weird one headed monster with four arms and feet; muffled sounds issued that indicated unpleasant sensations and suddenly Noel's brain clicked into high gear; the two shadows were joined by a third, and somehow, a new monster shadow was thrown on the wall, this time with two heads, one with a long arm growing out of its neck and a curiously bent arm that looked like a wing; more unpleasant sounds were made, albeit a bit more muffled, as Noel had a good grip on the windpipe of the young skank of a male. He was quietly pulled out the door and a short moan cut short was heard before a transport suddenly jumped to life and skittered off in the deserted street.

Noel was surprised, then elated that a soft feminine form had thrown itself on him and was quietly sobbing in relief; it was a scene straight out of his mental book of fantasies about his personal obsession, and suddenly he was utterly charmed and protective of this variety of a pretty rose haired form. An hour later, after carrying Serah to bed, tenderly tucking her in and holding her hands like two slim birds, promising he'd be there all night to watch over her, he'd fallen in love. If you had asked him about Lightning, the answer would be a resounding silence. After all, what was a private obsession with an unreadable state of mind when your life was no longer lacking for a pretty girl?

It was too bad he never saw the master bedroom door left open in a silent invitation. But then love is blind. Always.

Lightning was uncharacteristically silent the next morning, but it went unnoticed by both Noel & Serah; Serah ever so charmingly overrode Lightning's monosyllable when Noel eagerly offered to escort her to the festival that night; nor were the dark storm clouds gathering in the sky and in one beautiful woman's eyes heeded. Snow ended up escorting Lightning to work, where the crowds were sparse; everyone was at festival. One by one the girls left, the crowd dwindling down to a few regulars as the frenzy of the fertility festival mounted in the cool evening; it started to rain, a gentle downpour hitting the asphalt and plasteel of the streets with a soothing, yet mournful hiss as it soaked in, and overflowed every nook and cranny in Oldtown. The musicians relaxed, and began to play for themselves, the bartenders and security sat down and began to listen to them, and drink. It was a night for bourbon and blues, everyone wallowing in memories as the music evoked past loves, failed careers, and the deep loneliness of life lived hard.

Lightning took to the pole on the lower main stage, something she hadn't done in a long time; she danced for herself and no one else; she had her own demons to wrestle with, namely Noel and Serah together; she imagined her sister so dainty, so delicate, being shielded by Noel's strong arm; Serah lightly laying her head on the firm chest, which she just knew was welling with tender emotions for her baby sister; she imagined each tender gesture of protection Noel would make, the feather light caress of the neck she had felt, the angel's breath of a kiss brushing her lips goodnight, then later the searing velvety mouth pressing on hers, now all being given to Serah, and not her; the slow thrash of naked limbs, gold on silver, dusky sable on rose blonde intertwining, moving in the ancient rhythm of the oldest expression of love in the world as she spun on the pole, mentally caught in her own crucifixion of her heart's desire; she leaned back on the pole in the fallen angel position and slowly let herself spin, tilting her head back as long crystal runnels painted the outer corners of her eyes and dripped into the dark abyss below her feet.

_Etro, get me off this nightmare, cut my heart out and burn it, no one wants it but you._

Bring your love baby I could bring my shame  
Bring the drugs baby I could bring my pain  
I got my heart right here  
I got my scars right here  
Bring the cups baby I could bring the drink  
Bring your body baby I could bring you fame  
And that's my motherfucking words too  
Just let me motherfucking love you

The goddess had no answer for her, no beautiful dark haired shadow hunter suddenly appearing to escort her home, or shyly admitting he missed her; so she slept at Valhalla, not wanting to go home to an empty house. She quietly dressed in old plain riding leathers and her father's old keffeyieh from his desert GC days under the jacket and took an idle ride; she ended up at Etro's temple and sat there in the festival crowd, all praying for fertility. She found herself crying out inside for Etro, for her dead & missing father, anyone, anyone to point the way out of the endless pain of her existence. _Etro, why is it so? Why does Serah attract all the love in the world, but I can't even get a single man to look at me unless I'm tricked out like a Valkyrie? Please, I can't hold out much longer by myself. If there's really somebody out there for me, send them…please…Oh, Goddess,tell me true – did you send me Noel Kreiss? I don't understand this…this unspoken bond, this invisible rope between us – he pushes and I am pulled to him; yet when I pull, he pushes away; I don't understand where I fail, help me…_

She never heard her goddess answer, and there was no place left to go, so she slowly turned to go home.

When she finally opened the door to her house, it was quiet; Noel was sleeping on the couch and Serah in her bedroom; Lightning leaned on the doorframe, arms folded and stayed there, thinking. Something was not right with Noel when Serah was around. It was like he was a ghoul, a 'lights on nobody home' look about the eyes she knew, but couldn't quite place. She was sick of Serah's attitude towards her, Serah's lies, her too sweet voice delivering insults, Serah's too bright eyes on Noel in front of her.

"Are you going to stare at me all day or shut the door, o sister mine? " a brittle voice, sharp as tinkling shards of broken glass sliced her ears.

"Why aren't you at school?"

"It's festival week, I'm on a break. What's the matter, disappointed you can't yell at me for skipping school?'

Lightning gave Serah a coolly flat look then turned away and quietly shut the door, only to be faced with a stern faced Noel: "I thought you were going to call me as soon your shift at work ended so I could get you. You know your sister and I waited up for you – why do you act this way and worry her so?"

It was one thing to have Serah swipe at her, but this? Her bodyguard too? It was too much. She snarled inside, reined it in and calmly said: "I did double shift, since everyone was at festival and slept in Lexie's quarters. It was dead at Valhalla. I didn't see the need to come home, not that it's any business of yours, shadow hunter. I sent you a text." Then her tongue ran away with her and softly, coolly slipped in with: "Of course, it would be hard to see when you're staring at my sister all night long. And I doubt Serah would ever wait up for me – she's too much into creating her own fantasy life to be interested in real life out here, much less lift a hand to any help around here."

'It's a basting dump and I am sick of being so far from the city center, you jade!" Serah's voice cut in, a touch strident; "Why can't we sell mom's house and move somewhere else? Oh yeah, I forgot! You are going to be the next Lexis of Valhalla, and live there until your ass is too wrinkled to shake on stage, like her!"

Lightning growled and whipped round shaking a finger in Serah's face: "You'd better watch your mouth when you speak of Lexis, little kupo; if she hadn't taken a chance on me, we'd have been both on the streets within 6 months after mom's death! And just who do you think paid half your college tuition in your first year? Lexis, and all the people you know at Valhalla! Now back off of me."

"Baste you to Etro's hell! I am not hanging around that bar trash!"

"Bar trash, am I?" Lightning cocked an eyebrow, now really irritated; "Bar trash pays for everything you've had for the last 4 years, Serah. I wonder if you know what you're made of."

"I sure as hell am not like you – and I sure as hell won't end up old and alone! I even tell people I'm not your sister when they ask me at school, I am so sick of being associated with you and all that…that…shite!"

Lightning was shocked into silence at that for a few seconds; she simply turned away, white under her tan, and simply wounded replied: "So. I'm no sister of yours, am I? Then why are you here, under this bar trash roof, sleeping in a bar trash bed?"

Silence.

"I'm done with you. Do as you will."

Silence. Then two pairs of feet left the house, the door closing with a quiet click, so unlike the singing, snapping recoil of two broken heartstrings resounding in her heart.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

For the first time in six years, Lightning bowed her head and ever so quietly spoke into the ringing silence of the empty house: "Etro, you must be sick of me running to you only when there's no place else to go, but the truth is I am at the end of my road. I don't have any place left to go. I don't have anything left to give. Help me…please."

_I can barely hear you, E'Claire Farron. I thought you were stronger._

Lightning sat on her deck, watching the sun go down, ignoring her buzzing cell; she debated why she was trying so hard with people who simply didn't want to try with her; why she was trying so hard to hang onto her mother's house and nearly cried, thinking of her father. She was so far from the woman he had wanted her to be; she longed to return to military life and get out of Academia, period. She was unloved by her own flesh and blood, and again longed for the days of childhood, the happy innocence of believing life was good, people were good, there was no evil and so chastely, simple-mindedly knowing nothing at all. Tears dripped as she remembered the gold armband of her father's she'd sold to pay power bills and the dresses she'd owned sold for food; her father's gunsaber which she never, never, should have parted with traded for taxes; the coming-of-age party she'd never had; flowers, romance, birthday cards, the strong chest beating against her ear with a solid thump-thump of Edward Farron's heart, and his stronger fist to defend his precocious, talented, gorgeous 15 year old daughter from a molesting neighbor; all she'd had were her own weak fists, split and bleeding and her wits then.

She daydreamed of how it was supposed to be, she the daughter of a military officer, growing up respected, honorable, a lady ; and cried even harder at having to grow into a tough wary fighter, without the gentle influence of a woman on her; she feared she'd never be able to put aside the mask of Lightning, Valkyrie of Valhalla, and be a warm gracious woman, with a family, a mate…she knew the difference between herself and her reflection in the mirror before she strutted out on Valhalla's stage, but could not help but wonder: _Which of us do you love, Etro?_

She sat in silence before her dressing room mirror, waiting for her heart to crack into pieces and the despair to fill her soul, but somehow, it wasn't happening. Something just stubbornly refused to accept this. Why was she sitting here, meekly accepting the dish that she had just been served? She had a…right…to pursue happiness; and somehow, Noel Kreiss was fulfilling something in her. Having a family was something, too. The kernel of stubbornness in her slowly sprouted and grew, tendrils weaving in and out of her psyche until she slowly straightened her back and let determination fill her: "Etro, I am going to survive this. I survived my father going missing and declare dead, I survived being a mother to Serah, I survived a war, a…lot of things…I will not stop believing there's room for Claire's heart too, somewhere on Pulse."

_I hear you, loud as the thunder that announces your lightning, E'Claire Farron. _

Etro was listening, and never did she feel so close as she did now, closer than close to the favorite child of her personal servant, now standing alone in room in a city, stripped of her illusions of family and love; _Ahhh…now the real transformation begins, the work for which all other work is but preparation. Just keep your heart open, Valkyrie. I heard you._

She threw herself into her client appointments that evening, and was a bit shocked as Noel ghosted behind her reflection in her private lounge; he did not frown or glare, just returned her look steadily and squatted behind the curtains as clients drifted in and out; then he very respectfully held the door open for her, and insisted on leading her down the hall with a hand on her waist and holding her hand lightly, as if she were made of glass. He smoothed her leather jacket and tucked a stray icy rose strand in place after he'd set her on her 'cycle in a most lady-like fashion, faintly smiling at her before mounting and roaring off into the night; he immediately leaned back into her and clamped her hands around his waist, holding onto her one handed on a long straightaway.

He shyly asked if he could come in, and fussed over her some more, removing her jacket and seating her on the couch, then brought a pair of cups filled with tea before seating himself next to her. After a few sips he turned to her and began to converse: "You know, I am sure yesterday's events were trying for you; I didn't know how much of yourself you put into holding your family together after your father died, and even more so after your mother. In my tribe, family ties are held very highly, the only thing held higher is our ties to the goddess. I...I wanted to say how much I respect you for that." He savored another sip of tea and continued a bit more softly: "Hope and I had tried to contact you several times today. He sent me as messenger, thinking you'd thrown your cell in the river again, or some such thing. I took Serah to Hope; after hearing what I heard, I thought it best – she first wanted to go someplace I knew you'd not approve of. I didn't think it was prudent of her, or a safe place to be. Hope tried to talk to her, but she is still not hearing her family. He has insisted she stay with him for a few days, until school starts again, so she will not be unduly influenced by her peers. Someone has been telling her she can handle living on her own and…other things. I don't know who, except a text name: angiusinherba."

He lowered his cup and very quietly said: "I have to tell you as a shadow hunter…I sense…evil."

Lightning gave nothing away, but her eyes held his in a hunter's unblinking gaze over the rim of the tea cup. Noel slowly nodded, set his tea cup down and laid a hand on her knee, keeping his gaze steady before dropping the bomb: "I've seen that name before; a prior case. I never saw the being behind the name, but I have no doubt it's the same creature; he is part of a Fal'Cie's household."

"The name? Would it be…Barthandeus?"

Noel nodded slowly again.

"Thank you."

The silence grew between them; Noel was puzzled that she didn't immediately beg him for help, or burst into tears, or ask about Serah; she just continued to look over the rim of her teacup with the same intense gaze. He returned it with equal intensity, waiting for her to break, but she didn't; he felt a slow pulse of warmth under his hand on her knee and he dropped his eyes to surreptitiously admire the luscious legs crossed in a composed manner. He didn't quite understand why he'd come back, Hope could have delivered the information; it was like he and she were opposite polarity; he pushed, she pulled away; she pushed and he pulled away. But then, underneath it all, a hot river of desire flowed, eroding his resistance with every encounter. He gave into his desire and slowly moved his hand, palming the warm flesh, his own blood starting to pulse in time with the pulse of the beautiful creature sitting next to him; he quietly said, never raising his eyes: "Are you ok?"

"Do I look like a frightened sheep, shadow hunter?" She smiled faintly, remembering she was the daughter of an officer and allowed the luxury of anger suffuse her briefly. She had her enemy in her sights now. And she was going to win. "So…are you ready to take a visit to the upper city tonight? I am prepared to offer a hazard bonus…and…" she shifted on the couch, her other leg gently settling on top of Noel's hand on her leg, a pair of slim fingers trailing down the side of his face, running across his full lips as he caught his breath and let it out slowly. Her voice shook a bare syllable, betraying her desperation behind her actions: "I'm sure you'd understand how much gratitude I can put into my thank you, Noel Kreiss." She leaned closer and breathed into his ear: "Ismii qalil walah – it is only desire, yes?"

Noel had never been more tempted in his life than now and it was all he could do to not move; the slightest movement would make his will dissolve into the flowing magma of hot nomad blood beneath his skin. _Ohhhh Etro, Ismii qalil walah, riiiiight…it's not just desire…she knows something, she made a connection and she's not telling me…hang on, just hang on…Etro, damn…I want her…if this is what I think it is, I'm going to baste her for three days straight, once I get her all to myself._

"Lightning. I am your guardian. I'll follow you to the shadows of hell, if it solves this. And I've been there before, so I am not frightened. Worry about fees and gratitude later." With a supreme effort he looked at her: "Let's go kick some Fal'Cie ass." He whispered.

An hour later they were walking up to a discreet door set in a pretty rooftop garden; Noel was tense, but armed to the teeth with his double sword, a custom alloy knife, and a bandolier of some of lightning's leftover pyrotechnics from GC days. Lightning made him wear a spare set of her leathers vs. his normal nomad gear for the visit, and threw her blazefire gunsaber over her own sleek clean leathers.

She walked in like she belonged to the upper city when admitted, then seated herself in a banquette, ordered an untouched glass of intoxicant and settled in to await the arrival of Barthandeus in his favorite haunt. Noel stayed in the shadows, nerves zinging, the mantra of Etro a constant refrain in his mind.

The Fal'Cie Barthandeus enjoyed the sight of the Farron woman sitting with no fear waiting on him. It titillated his senses in a way he hadn't felt in so long …everyone feared him, it was rare to see someone unafraid and he lapped up her courage like cream.

"What do you wish, Lightning Farron? A favor? A service? Revenge? I can do all of these and more…but what coin have you to pay in? "

"No favor, no service, and I am not vengeful…tonight, Fal'Cie Lord Barthandeus. I simply come to claim what is mine. "

"Oh? What do I have of yours, lady Farron? I am all…appetite…my ears are hungry for a new novelty."

Noel drew three inches of blade in the shadows and dared not breathe. However, Lightning laughed. 'Oh come, come, master of the night, do you not know everything there is to know, especially in your own house? How could a poor simple dancer from the dregs of Oldtown amuse you? Of course, I could dance for you, but I think you like your honey dark and strong, oh honey of the night."

He bared his teeth in amusement and waved forward a suave server with a dully gleaming tray balancing a bottle: "Will you drink, lady?"

"Nay, Lord Barthandeus, but I will pour you a draught if it please you and I will amuse you with my search for what is mine." She perched prettily by him on the low banquette, and poured a precise measure in perfect crystal, then presented it with a flourish. He slowly quaffed his drink, and ever so slowly Lightning extended her arm, laying on the table, wrist up, where one could see the faint blue tracery of veins throbbing with the same drink in the Fal'Cie Lord's pretty crystal goblet. She spoke just as slowly and carefully: "Lord, I regret to inform you that your servant has been cheating you of your bounty of souls; I have discovered my sister has been mistakenly used as a focus to bait a failed candidate, and I simply wish to reclaim my sister. You may see the truth of my words in my blood. Drink."

Noel felt the ground beneath him drop, seeing tableau of the Valkyrie offering her blood and the singing memories locked within open to the all-knowing, hungry, not-quite-Pulsian eyes of the Fal'Cie. _Etro, she has courage, limitless courage and no hesitation; what bloodline is she, really? Few are raised so fearless on Pulse! What a temptation for him! Gods!? What if she is made into L'Cie just because he fancies it?_ He armed a charge, a pinprick of light faintly glowing blue in the shadows he stood in.

Barthandeus paused, then gently stroked the flesh presented with cool white fingers, glittering with sun's eyes gems in ancient settings of white iridium before daintily placing his mouth on the pulsing wrist and biting down to suck the red life swirling beneath the surface; Noel ever so slowly drew his blade, waiting for the moment the Fal'Cie would lose control, but it never came. Barthandeus sighed and withdrew; he challenged Lightning with his eyes, but she never backed down, returning look for look; it seemed there was a faint shimmer in the air between the Pulsian and the Fal'Cie, a silent battle of wills hanging in the air. Barthandeus attempted to dominate with his dark, bringing shadows and things in the shadows crawling forward, but something in Lightning blazed and lit the space between them; she seemed to burn with a clear and steady light, sending the dark things scurrying and scuttling back into the safe dark. Barthandeus seemed to quiver and wilt, unable to hold her gaze. He gnashed his teeth and tore his gaze away, a hand coming up to shield his eyes at last.

" I…see the strength of your will, lady Farron. Your claim is valid. My servant has overstepped. Thy sister is yours to claim by blood."

"I thank the lord for his consideration. Now, where is the servant? I would debate his grievance with the shadow hunter. "

Barthandeus looked to his right, and a slim form dressed in cool whites, yet somehow dark and sleek as an oil slick slithered forward and bowed mockingly. Noel stood frozen to his spot, struggling for courage, keeping his sword at the ready, never trusting the familiar face that he remembered…and remembering choking in dark coils, screaming for Etro to save him, because he had no strength in him, his soul being eaten alive by darkness…_Etro, send an angel of a light unto me in this darkness, look at Light, she is of light, remember you are light, keep your eyes on Light…_

"Whaaat isss the lady'sss pleasure with the ssservant of Barthandeussss?" He asked in a sibilant whisper, swaying slightly in the soft candlelight.

"My pleasure ? I have no pleasure when the Lord's name has been taken in vain. Tell me, servant: what grievance do you hold against Noel Kreiss, shadow hunter? I request particulars; be kind enough to parley and share your grievance."

"Do you come asss proxy to pay hiss debt to me?"

"Exactly what debt might that be, servant?"

" A pact of blood…a promise sssealed with his word in his blood to bring me the seeressss, lady. A favor was requested in exchange. A prior incarnation of the ssseeress wasss to be hisss. "

"And he bore the exact face of the shadow hunter? What was his weapon like? What color were his eyes? – Were they exactly as this? Or perhaps more…this color at times? Did the sword look like this? Or was it like this?" She tapped her cell, bringing up pictures; the servant stayed silent, gently weaving his head back and forth, staring at the images, but a flicker of nervousness gave him away. She knew she had him. And had him in full sight of Barthandeus. Very gently she continued:

"You have laid your debt at the wrong door, sir – Caius Ballard is your seeress thief, not Noel Kreiss."

"Hiss form has changed? I ssssssee not, lady." The servant grinned, a tongue gently, as it flicked and tasted the air as if he could taste Noel's shrinking gilt flesh in dark.

'Yes, his form is changed; allow me to raise the veil from your eyes: a doppleganger glamoring was conjured & you must have been in a place with much light when the bargain was struck; you made th epact during daylight, did you not? You were fooled by Caius – he had many years to plan his favor. He took Noel's form, but doppleganger spells cannot work on metal; and the eyes will give the cheater away in certain light also. I would also point out you know a shadow hunter cannot lie to Fal'Cie, since the appointment is also by blood; and you, his servant would know, are you not clever, like your master? Did you not taste the shadow hunter's blood? Caius knew Noel Kreiss would be asked to hunt for her after she was taken, so how perfect of a ruse to make the servant of Barthandeus believe that the rescuer was the thief? Do you now see?"

A crackling hiss was the only answer.

"Since you were mistaken and cruelly deceived, you cannot have any further claim on the shadow hunter. I claim Noel Kreiss for mine own, servant. Now back off, or I will sting thee with light to crack thy pretty eyes to shards. I care not how much you desire revenge or his pound of flesh; he is bound by oath to serve ones even greater than the great Lord here tonight. He must be returned to the House Imperate. He. Is. Mine. " She was almost nose to nose, her will beating into the servant, who was cringing. Barthandeus was leaning back, and openly enjoying the spectacle; she was right, he was amused; and he would amuse himself more with his servant's punishments tonight. Clever woman; she was a Farron, alright. He looked forward to seeing her again.

She rose, bowed extravagantly at Barthandeus, then threw the micro tablet at the servant: "Here. Hunt for thine own debtor. See the favor I do thee?"

A long hiss was the only answer to be heard and Noel's back shuddered at the memory, as the tone of it was far too familiar. But Lightning merely smiled over shoulder and sweetly wished it: "Etro guide your bite, servant."

Noel was profoundly silent on the ride back; he was at war with himself: at first, he was amazed Lightning had solved the case; but at the same time angry that he, the shadow hunter with the experience had overlooked the markers of the servant. He then grew deeply terrified of Lightning, as he slowly realized she'd just faced down a servant of a Fal'Cie, AND the Etro-damned, freaking _Fal'Cie_ himself and lived. What the hell was she really made of? Was she that well connected with other Fal'Cie she could command that kind of respect? _Holy Etro, who the baste are you, Lightning Farron?_

Lightning nearly fell off the bike, as she was weak from the Fal'Cie's bite; it was not deep , not even close to fatal, but Barthadeus had been thirsty; Noel carried her in, and carefully put her in her bed; when he finished rummaging for bandages, she was completely passed out. He bound her wrist after cleaning it, then called Hope for advice. Hope was startled, but reassured Noel she was alright and recommended he stay close for the night, call him if the slightest thing happened, and rapidly listed a diet to restore her blood quickly. He would be by tomorrow and do any requisite spells to bring to a full restoration of spirit and flesh as needed. Noel sat by the bed looking at her for what seemed like hours; he memorized every strand of ice rose hair, every eyelash, the smooth ivory of her skin, the exact curve of her cheekbones, the lush bow of her satiny upper lip before he gained the courage to touch.

It was so like the angel he'd seen in his dream; the rose hair, pale skin and aquamarine eyes were so familiar… His terror had fallen away and he was now wildly exhilarated, excited, sexually electrified. His tanned hand slowly traced down her face, the smooth shoulder and picked up the long fingered hand; he couldn't help it and slowly kissed the soft warm flesh gratefully, tenderly ashamed he'd not done so when he realized she had freed him from the evil focus of the L'Cie. Then it seemed he couldn't stop; his lips travelled up the arm, dropping soft kisses on her forehead, her cheek, the soft lips until he was breathless with desire. He started to eagerly strip off the leathers Lightning had lent him, his battle shirt, the left hand gauntlet, intent on climbing in bed next to her to cradle and protect this exquisite piece of Etro next to his worshipping body until she woke; then he would claim the sweet reward she promised…and he would see to it the pleasure would certainly NOT be one-sided, despite not having been with a woman before.

The mirror on the wall glinted as he threw his battle shirt on a chair then he stopped as he caught glimpse of himself: he saw himself in the near dark, a being of shadow, not light…with disgusted eyes he saw his half nude body, panting with lust for a woman he barely knew, a pole dancer who was clever enough to solve his case before him; what the hell was he doing, falling into bed with his client? He was a purebred, for Etro's sake! A Shadow Hunter bound by oath! He struck down his desire and caged it as it howled and screamed, beating itself to shreds against the walls that now boxed it in.

He walked to the shower and turned it on full blast, then dialed it to cold, then hot; he repeated it two more times until he felt his desire wash away down the drain. He called Hope back, and convinced him to trade guard duties, the desperation in his voice puzzling to his friend on the other end.

Lightning woke up to her cousin slouching elegantly on her deck chair, re-aligning her computer drives on her tablet to amuse himself and drinking her tea. He informed her Noel was guarding Serah in his apartment and would contact her soon, but kindly asked her to rest, as he knew the strain of being close to a Fal'Cie up close and personal. She was disappointed, but then it was a risk she took, keeping her answers to herself.

Noel was politely distant when he called, and set up an automatic transfer of funds to conclude their business. She misunderstood Noel's distance and interpreted it in the worst possible way; she felt jilted, and out foxed by her own sister no less. So, when she heard Serah's tinkling crystal laugh in the background, Lightning ground her teeth in silent frustration, and some part of her broke inside. She decided to just give up on Noel Kreiss; so she coolly cut him off, and wished him well, but doubted their paths would cross again, unless she was invited to the upper city again.

Serah did not come back to the house to live when the fertility festival break was over, and had taken a campus studio apartment at Hope's insistence; Lightning simply got her voicemail every time she called, so after 2 weeks, she decided to just stop calling and just let go.

It hurt like hell, but Lightning kept the news to a minimum; however, the whole of Valhalla knew of the change in Serah, and the shadow hunter's infatuation with the girl, and as a show of support, they all decided to cut Serah from their little family, unless they saw a heartfelt change in behavior. So when one of the pole girls saw Serah with Noel at a tent party, looking like a lovestruck lapdog dressed in city clothes, a far cry from the stern disciplined nomad that watched over the Valkyrie, she deliberately said a few choice words under her breath to Noel's back and kept it from Lightning. She knew her friend was hurting, and not just over Serah. Serah's birthday was approaching, and she was laughingly inviting people in the tent, but Daria had heard Serah wittily retort: "Oh, family? I am have become a self-proclaimed orphan!"

Then another 3 days later, another attempt occurred.

Seething, Noel was knocking on Lightning's door with Serah that night; he was so frustrated with the way this was going, and half wondered if he was cursed; it seemed he kept getting thrown in a certain rose haired Valkyrie's flight path no matter what direction in life he took. Hope let them in, and waved them to the table where Snow and Light were poring over the security cam recordings. She flicked an aquamarine gem of an eye towards them, but ignored the couple until she was quite finished with Snow.

She silently stood with her arms crossed as the pair stumbled through the niceties of greetings and gratitude for a safe place to stay for a few days. She kept her eyes on Hope, steadily gazing back to loan her strength to go through with it as she briefly spoke, indicating there was only the couch and her old military bedroll to sleep on, since Serah's room was emptied of furniture. She would stay at Hope's, or at the club and instructed them her bedroom would be locked. She had privately determined no way was either of them was going to be sleeping in her bed. She turned to go very quickly, refusing to meet anyone's eyes, then she was gone with Hope, leaving Snow, who greeted them with: "Welllll now, how does it feel now to be back in the old neighborhood? Nothing like the stink of stale piss and used underwear in the morning, eh?" he grinned, then broke into a bellowing laugh as he upended his beer , then unerringly threw it to the trash can, grazing Serah's pink ponytail.

The incident seemed to blow over, no leads to the last attempt were to be found; so Serah went about planning her birthday party. The party news made its way back to Hope, who was invited and was stunned that Light and the staff at Valhalla had been deliberately not invited; when bluntly taken to task by Snow, he was told she was embarrassed by her sister who looked like she belonged in Oldtown, not in the least giving the appearance of a lady. Hope decided to peacekeep and invited Light as his date, then took her shopping for a dress; he enjoyed it, as she was gorgeous in anything, her body was fit, and she always gave in to anything he asked. He gently made the point in between compliments about each dress she tried that Serah was simply trying to fly on her own, and advised to simply let her go to fall on her face a few times to teach her some humility and appreciation for her family.

It wasn't often he got Light to himself, and soon the two were hanging out all the time like they did when he was a teen; except this time he was armed, and there was a more pronounced sexual undercurrent; Lightning wasn't the only one to have grown up and had milk do them good. Despite Hope's Academian pursuits, he was a man through and through; he had that rare male beauty that seemed to be eternal youthfulness, like a young Adonis; something alike mirrored in each other's faces, and the undercurrent shimmered in any room full of people they were in lately, so rumors of the two pairing off began to arise. Noel would have been jealous to the point of snarky, had he not become totally infatuated with Serah.

Noel often wondered at Hope and Lightning's relationship himself as he went back into his routine of escorting Lightning to work each night; she seemed hell bent on ignoring him and kept her distance with a brittle arrogance that felt like pure Fal'Cie instead of Oldtown trollop. _She's changed_, he thought; _but then so have I_ – he let himself smile at the memory of melting violet eyes raised to his and begging him to be careful in Oldtown, he knew she was the right one, all he needed was for Etro to show him the right place and the right time, and he would give himself to her, then propose. He would never be alone again.

Of course, Etro bought none of it. She had other plans than a rose haired trollop for her shadow hunter. And she was going to show him exactly what it meant to be a servant of the goddess.

The birthday came and Light slowly dressed at Valhalla, and paraded by the girls who whistled and clapped; then Hope was at the bar, a grinning silver wolf with a sexy glint in his emerald eye in matching black formal clothes.

" Awesome. Look at the director – oh! Is that…her?"

" That hair should tell you – who'd have thought she'd have the sand in her shoes to show up? But in that dress, she could get away with a Fal'Cie formal ball! Man, I wish I had legs like that! "

"Holy Etro – the director came with a Valkyrie! No wonder he never dates anyone on campus! That's some fine honey! Ow!"

A well placed jab silenced the gossiper as the elegant couple made their way through the restaurant to the private room in the back, where Serah was holding her first formal affair. A number of interested eyes followed the backs clad in matching black making their way to Serah's table, lavishly decorated with roses the color of her tanzanite eyes; it was going to be a lovely sight to see the proud Valkyrie, the one who had every man fall at her feet for the past 4 years get snubbed by her pretty younger sister and with her own handsome ex-guardian hanging on the girl's arm. They'd heard Serah's stories of hardship and verbal abuse and they were ready to rip Lightning to shreds at the least sign of weakness they could find.

The gossip-mongers were silent, watching the two sisters eye each other up; it was Hope who courageously stepped forward under the scrutiny of all those hard gazes, and offered his arm to his Light, now elegantly clad as a lady in an evening gown, her hair up and even wearing perfume. He slowly took her around and introduced her to Serah's guests, then put an arm around her protectively as she approached Serah. She spoke clearly and quietly to her sister expressing birthday wishes simply, stating : "Here. Mother would want you to wear this." It was her silver armband, and though it grieved Light to let it go, she did.

Hope swept her off to the dance floor, where they moved elegantly as one for a dance; another rather infatuated guest tried to cut in, but he firmly refused, smiling with his eyes before quietly whispering: "Steady on those sooty wings, angel; they'll warm up after tonight. Just don't let them see you sweat." She clung a little tighter and let her eyes speak; it was working. She was going to make it through the gauntlet after all. She started to smile herself, slowly breaking into a radiantly beautiful expression like the dawn itself, like the 15 year old Claire Farron before she had become an adult before her time. She could almost imagine her father smiling at her, saying _That's my sweet Claire, I am so proud of you, you're a Farron through & through_… Then her gaze was caught by her secret sin, Noel Kreiss.

Light was stunned to see he was dressed in a set of city clothes, a sleek suit and formal shirt in the latest style, all one color and no tie which he wore with a somber elegance; however, the blue eyes held the same wary hard look of the gossip-mongers; she saw Serah lean over and whisper in his ear, laying a hand intimately on his arm and the look slowly morphed into a well-mannered disgust, the eyes hardening to ice, the cheek stiffening with an expression of total disdain as he took in Serah's comment. She was just puzzled at first, wondering what lie Serah just told, but then Lightning's heart abruptly broke when he put his hand on Serah's when cutting the cake up and smiled with an intimacy she'd only been able to dream of.

She knew right then and there he had fallen for her sister. Lightning imperceptibly stiffened and she gave the pair a soldier's stare, but her hand tightened over Hope's. Hope looked at his Light's clean profile and took in her stare, which he knew very well; it was the mask she put on when something had disturbed her or hurt her. He followed her line of sight and saw Noel's tender look of admiration directed at Serah and the way he hovered far too closely for a mere bodyguard; he'd read the signs of infatuation earlier, but never knew it had gone this far_. What in the name of Etro's seven hells is Kreiss doing with that little idiot? Nomad or not, that's a damned stupid choice for a lover. I have judged him wrongly; I thought he felt something for Light – he was all about her for the longest time, I just don't get why he did this 180 degree change. _

Hope's disgust at Serah rose in him and his stomach turned when he thought that Serah must have done it deliberately because Lightning had been attracted to the nomad; he decided to leave right then and there, then call Serah to his Director's office at college Monday and take her apart, even expel her if he had to; after all that Light had done to ensure the girl grew up with family instead of being part of the government's official orphan's and widow's system, she was a damned ungrateful fool. She was not behaving as family, she was all for herself. Serah had no idea what her sister had sacrificed. Well, if she didn't want the protection and support of her family, so be it. He wasn't going to protect her any longer, and he was going to protect Light.

"Light? Light, hey, look at me. Let's leave. I'm disgusted. Come on. You don't need to see any more of this…this…petty bitchery."

Silently, she nodded tersely. They both abruptly turned and walked towards the door, steadily, hand in hand; never had the pair looked more like aristocrats, almost Fal'Cie in their haughty indifference at the stares and shocked whispers rising behind them. Hope calmly lifted a glass from a table and downed 2 swallows for courage as he kept going with her to the door. Puzzled, guests looked askance at the pair then at Serah, wondering why her sister and her cousin, the closest family she had, were leaving like the place was an Oldtown hell instead of a classy New Town bash. Serah ever so charmingly called out: "Hope? Are you leaving so…soon? Have some cake at least!"

"Absolutely not. I'd sooner eat shite off the floor of an Oldtown pissroom than your damned birthday cake." Hope calmly upended his glass of champagne on the floor and let it drop, the shards flying everywhere like the small explosion in his head happening right now. "This house of _Serah_ has no hospitality to offer House Estheim…or House Farron. " A shocked silence reigned as the formal insult that indicated a final, irrevocable parting of the ways sank in; then it was followed by the snick of the door softly being closed.

Hope and Light quietly observed the city lights of Academia all the way down the glass fronted elevator, and somewhere during the 3rd round of alcohol, at Academia's _second_-best restaurant, she did crack a smile at him. "Damn, Hope. I knew you were a tough bastard even at 14, but I never expected you to deliver a killing blow like that. Thanks may be a too simple a word, but I hope it'll do until I can find some more words. Um. Glad we're cousins. At someone understands the word family."

"Hush, and don't let all that soot around your eyes run. It matches the wings.' He eyed her with genuine affection before continuing: "I got your back. So do a lot of other people. Like Snow. Everyone at Valhalla, a couple of crime lords for all I know…The Estheims , all of them. Lexis looks at you like a daughter. Maybe it's time we looked for the Farrons, too."

They shared a companionable silence for the remainder of the drink, then Lightning sighed and said: "Hope, I think I'll call it a night in the social arena of Academia. I feel like wallowing in the dregs of society. Talk to you tomorrow?" She bent down and softly kissed him before leaving in a swirl of black chiffon and clean Tamarisk wood perfume.

"Go, angel. Burn it out."

"You mean demon of darkness, muh-hah-hah."

She smiled in recognition of their old bond. He knew. She knew. And she knew what she had to do.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

_Author's notes: Full credit to Fragma & Coco Star for the lyrics to I Need A Miracle; again absolutely no intent of profit or gain is intended, the story is for amusement only. Again, Muse's musical picks to inspire the scene in Babylon was dead on; not only Fragma, but Christina Aguilera's Dirrrty, & MBLAQ's Smoky Girl was somehow mysteriously loaded onto an Ipod playlist and prodded memories of another Babylon… _

Lightning wearily dropped the formal affair in black chiffon on a chair at the house and changed into her Valhalla riding leathers; perhaps she'd go down to Valhalla and talk to Lexis, or Snow. Neither of them had been invited to Serah's birthday party, as they were bar rats, despite helping to raise Serah as their own these past 5 years. Her cell purred and thinking Hope was calling with some kind thought, she reached for it and automatically said "Lightning."

"I'll be there in 5 more minutes, and don't go to work without me. We need to talk, Farron."

The color drained out of Lightning's face and she scrambled for some response, than thought: _To hell with it. I don't need to explain this._ "Are you calling as my employee or the avenging angel of Serah, Kreiss? Either way, my family affairs are really none of your business. Oh, by the way? Take the night off. I'll text you, _IF_ I need you."

She hung up and set the cell to silent and cheerfully ignored the 4 calls and 2 texts from a jilted nomad lover that never was all the way to Oldtown.

The house was packed, it was a killer night and Lexis screeched in delight that she'd showed up; immediately she begged for Lightning to consider one client; something in her said _Baste it, this is my home. Who cares. I owe Lexis, not Serah or Noel. _She cheekily said: "Hey, Lexis? No need for private tonight. Let's give them a taste of what goes on behind closed doors!" Lexis stared at her, then screeched again: "You scamp! You genius! We'll double profit tonight! – But seriously, Light, you don't have to. You're gonna inherit this wreck one day, ya know that?" Her faded lavender eyes were nothing but tenderly kind towards her protégé and she gripped the cold hand to reassure her; Light seemed somewhat off tonight, a brittle edge to her voice that was giving her an undercurrent of unease. She put it down to the situation she was in, and hoped that damned shadow hunter would quit hanging about with his nose into everything and wrap up the case soon. He'd sent her 5 texts in the last two hours, each more demanding than the last. She wished he'd keep closer to his client as she sent a text back that said: _Relax, baby girl showed up._

Light shrugged and ran to change. The house lit on fire when they heard Lightning was on deck, and it was rumored she was entertaining a kingpin tonight; their howls of anticipation were rewarded with a stunning sexy Valkyrie in an outfit that seemed all diamonds, if a few strategically placed scraps of fabric and glued on brilliants could be called that. It left the perfect globes of her derriere almost completely exposed and made every foot fetishist jaws' drop with a pair of high heeled sandals that matched the icy pink tint of her hair perfectly; even the footerotica flashed with ice pink brilliants; to add to the scandalous ensemble, she knotted a tee over the bikini top that read 'Fuck the Fal'Cie' that would be ripped off later and thrown to the crowd when she damn well felt like it.

Cid Raines, the co-owner of Babylon and a crimelord extraordinaire , was in the house tonight and his sec men surrounded him in a tight circle as he pushed up to the front of the stage and grinned at her, then daringly threw his sword , impaling it on the wood of the stage floor. It quivered and the steel shimmered as the dancer flipped off the pole she been spinning on upside down and decided it was time to get really outrageous; she placed her hands on the hilt, then slowly ground her hips down to the ground in her best come-baste-me, then ever so delicately licked the blood groove of the blade all the way up, and winked at the crowd, who seemed to be nothing but a large primal growling beast at that point. Daggers and weapons came out by the score and the drinking hell resounded with the steady thump of the pommels and grips being slammed into the tables, the stage, the bars, even the walls to match the heavy thumping beat. She was their darling, the one and only no-holds-barred, fierce, sexy, angel of Oldtown, their fuck-the-Fal'Cie-spit –in-your-eye symbol of it all and they let her know it. She felt their goodwill and hot lust buoying her spirits up and she finally cracked her rare 1000 watt smile at the crowd. Then rather satisfied, she nodded at Raines, and two slim hands pulled the sword out of the wood and started the 3rd kata of the attack in time to the music as he sat back and enjoyed watching the sexiest, hottest bit of pink ice in Academia play with his personal property.

At the finale, she wickedly took the neck off the bottle that was at his table, then carefully presented the blade back with a caress to his handsome face before turning back to the crowd and announcing : "So…what do you maniacs want to see next?" She took another request, from Raines of course, to work it with him to another popular hit and she gave it to him like he was the only man in the room, which had the effect of exciting the patrons to play with each other as well as greedily enjoy the eye candy of Lightning and Raines. Everyone agreed they made a very sexy couple; his dark hair and lean physique contrasted well with her slim curves and rose tints. Snow was literally pouring open bottles into open mouths and grabbing cash left & right as they started to move on the dance floor as a couple after light had delivered a rousing orgasmic solo moving around, in front, below him and on him like she was his prized pet let out to play; he handled her spins and steps with admirable grace, being a former club dancer for his family business himself before coming of age and added a nice bit of masculine naughtiness to the show. Everything was good, everything was feeling alright, she'd almost let the party incident scar over, until she saw Noel in his nomad clothes leaning in his usual spot against the wall, sword hanging off his back, his arms crossed and scowling at her like thunder. Then all the joy of the night drained away underneath the steady sardonic scrutiny of those fiery sapphire blue orbs. He jerked his head towards the door, looking even angrier if possible. She stood stock still, then turned away like he was nothing. She was at the limit of what she could take.

_Go away. Go back to your desert, go back to my ever loving sister and go make love to her – I saw you! I never stood a chance, did I, Etro? That look made me feel like the biggest whore on the planet and damn it all, he's right. I __am__ a whore. I come here every night and use my body to excite them all into a frenzy and take their money for the pleasure of watching me move. I play into all their fantasies, everyone wants the Valkyrie but no one wants the real Lightning. I am so far from where I wanna be. I need to get out of here. _

She burned at the memory of her sister and Noel together as it sank deep its teeth deep into her. She realized what a fool she was for even thinking that there was something between her and the handsome brunette, despite the initial reaction. Disgusted at herself, she threw it all on the fire of her will and disconsolate, watched her secret hope start burning up.

She finished her act, and took her leave of the very pleased crime lord, who daringly licked his hilt in a brazen invitation mimicking her earlier act; she simply put on her smiling mask and pointed him to the 2nd floor door and suggested an appointment sometime; she lied and said she was booked for a private party next, but as soon as she was free later tonight she'd drop by Babylon; the truth was she didn't think she could take him feeling like this; the haughty disgusted look of Noel was eating into her now like a soft corrosive acid, making her feel something she hadn't allowed in her life for the longest time: shame.

The burn was bad now, and she couldn't take being in Valhalla a minute longer; she avoided Noel, striding down the little maze of backstage walkways shouting her name; she kept just out of his line of sight , pausing every few steps or so as he turned around and around frustrated as hell and managed to duck her way to the back door by the back bar. She was stopped by the chorus girls who were going out to the streets whom cheerfully invited her to come along; she scrambled into her leather riding pants, and one of the security hoodies, not bothering to take off her costume or wipe off her makeup, just another girl out on a Saturday night in the city; she ignored Snow's shout and just shrugged, trying to smile, but the smile ran away from her face as he earnestly, knowingly gazed back at her across the bar. She ran back and hugged him and simply said: "I gotta burn it out of me before it chews me up, bro." then ran out before the lump in her throat became obvious. He knew something was up, as he'd known that look – she was hurting. He'd seen Noel's face when Lightning was bringing down the house: Haughty indifference trying to cover envy and disgust, the usual thing from outsiders. So it was with a bit of prejudice he indifferently shrugged when Noel came running down the stairs to look for her a good 10 minutes later. "Hell, Kreiss, I'm not the bodyguard. She's out on the streets tonight. Gotta blow off a little steam, if you catch my drift?"

Noel's eyebrows snapped together and nearly growled back at the big bartender: "Damn it, man! I'm bound by imperial oath to protect, not to hound her! She knows not to go anywhere without me! What possessed her to just go like that? What bad blood is now between her and her sister? Something's off, there's been some incident that has come between them – and neither will open up to me! "

Snow grudgingly gave him a little respect and decided to warn him: "You might want to tread real careful around that tonight, little brother. In fact, don't even let her see your face. Go down to the Body Shop or Babylon in Oldtown, she's running wild with the girls tonight."

Noel gripped his shoulder and gave him a rather soulfully intense look for a man that made Snow blink; it wasn't often his male acquaintances were so sincere like the young hunter in front of him, now turning to go hunt his escaped charge. At least he took his job of guarding her seriously. He coughed and said: "Oh Kreiss?"

Noel looked back:"Snow?"

A pair of oversized sec pants were thrown at him.

"Lose the skirt tonight, willya?"

The girls and Lightning tumbled down into the old part of Oldtown, where the streets were cobbled and the bars were rough, some of them just rooms with liquor, loud horseplay and noise; but the music was the hottest, the moves were the latest, and scene was absolute wildness, if that's what one wanted. Gambling, intoxicants, and million ways to get yourself off all existed in the crowded hells; it was a place for all things, anytime, anywhere. And Lightning wanted. She wanted anything, anything at all to distract her from the burning pain at watching what she wanted so badly for herself given to her sister once again, and given at her lightest touch. He hadn't even put up a fight. He ran to it. That is what really unhinged her. She realized for all the times she'd given her best, it was still nothing. _Etro, surely in vain have I have kept my heart pure; surely I have set my feet on the abyss; do not let my feet slip; let me know I have not done all things for you in vain…_

She was on the edge tonight, her feet hanging over the abyss once again; she was almost ready to turn into what they thought of her, and some part of her kept desperately fighting it off; she wanted to keep some part of herself clean, whole…open. So it drove her to wild nights like this, hours spent in movement, whether it be prize fighting, dancing, or with a weapon in her hand; she would burn any dark thoughts to ashes; she would make an appointment with weeping, but not tonight. Tonight she was going to get down, and move with the beat until she was raw, sweaty & downright dirty; and anyone was a welcome partner. But no one would be her lover. No one. What she loved wanted no part of her. Therefore, no one got any part of her.

Noel hunted her hard, but it took 3 bars, 2 bribes to bartenders and one knife between a wafter's legs before he finally caught up with the pack of Valhalla Valkyries; it was in the house of Babylon, and true to Oldtown, it proudly advertised itself as THE place for all things, anytime, anywhere.

It was crowded at Babylon, on the verge of manic. There was prize fighting and women's mudwrestling on the lower level, a balcony on the upper level with private booths in the signature purple and gold, looking down on the dance floor. The booths were piled with exotic brocade cushions & there was nothing there but bottle service by gorgeous girls in more signature purple & sparkling gold, who could be had for the right price. The booths were fairly full already, people were celebrating a sports team win and intoxicants were flowing freely. There were even specialty acts, all circus performers: contortionists, fire-eaters, jugglers, acrobats, strongmen; Babylon had them dusted in gold, so they looked incredible strolling through the lounge or dance floor in the evening, surreal statues brought to life in a mad world of purple light.

The music was one heavy hitter after another, which lent wings to the girl's feet; an occasional grin crossed their faces when the music segued into a super bass thumping street poet rhythm cycle, & every amateur out there invaded the floor, veritable carnival of exotic costumes, face paint and style on display. Lightning was on fire, her hair now magenta in the flickering purple light of Babylon, and she kept it up for what seemed like hours; the burn was a roaring bonfire now. Noel could do no more than grasp the railing transfixed, watching her move effortlessly for eons before realizing his hands were gripping the railing like a white knuckled addict, staring at a fix.

He wondered _where did all this energy come from? What was driving her?_

Etro reached out and touched him with a finger of memory: _Desire, it was only desire, you said. Now, learn what it is to truly feel desire. _Every time his gaze turned away he was consumed inside with the secret craving for another glimpse, the hunger invading his mind, like a heroin junkie desperately ignoring withdrawal, yet blindly reaching for another fix. Etro-damn, she was extraordinary - whenever she let her glance pause on particular person, they would be mesmerized; invariably, their eyes all said the same thing – _I desire you, I adore you, I would die for the merest touch of your hand_…or was that some part of him saying that? Noel pantingly pushed down the hot magma of desire that had scorched him the first day they'd met and began to fight himself. He became a statue in a crowd of jumping, screaming, dancing humans, observing the performance, just another punk in an oversized hoodie and pants, but another part of his heart & soul was slowly starting to burn away the last shreds of his resistance.

He'd seen plenty of dancing before, but not like this; it was a thousand women rolled into one, she changed with every new beat or partner or group she moved with; one moment she'd be thrashing her pink hair and stomping to a heavy metal anthem, the next she was grooving with the funkiest old school disco and her hips would swivel in complex patterns that left a man's throat dry; when the beat got downright tribal, she was on it like a nomad, or more like a tribe of nomads; Noel was taken aback at her ability to move like the men with fierce streetwise leaps, turns and dubsteps that seemed to defy normal joint motion, all done with a loose flying grace; then Etro interfered again, nudging the DJ's hand to choose: _Here, __this__ one, play this one. He needs to see her with his eyes, not just his heart_…

An incredible piece of music came on that drove everyone to a tarantella of madness; it seemed like a choir of angels under laid with a tense questing beat that excited the ear as well as the body; the vocals floated in the air like kisses or perhaps a prayer to Etro; Noel's eyes greedily sought her in luxury of fulfilled fix as she spun across the floor to an open spot; then Lightning was dancing alone in the middle of the throbbing stomping crowd, and it was…beautiful.

She leapt like a classically trained dancer, clean and smooth, yet kept a rocking beat that snapped with passionate accents; she spun with grace, swinging her hips with an every so sexy syncopation that just wouldn't quit; she dropped to her knees and lifted her face to the heavens as if begging Etro herself in a church; was that tears on her cheek? Or was that just water from the sprinklers that just turned on from the ceiling? She was now extending her hands to the cool drops splattering everyone and rose, then somehow she became just movement in time and space; the mask that everyone knew slipped, then Lightning the Valkyrie of Vahalla was lost; a stranger in her custom made leather motorcycle pants and diamond studded bikini top was dancing, a 15 year old girl who'd believed in love, a beautiful blossom unfolding, a talent, a darling child of her doting father's gaze…_Darling Claire, I love to watch you dance…_

_If you're gonna save the day and you're hearin' what I say  
I feel your touch, your kiss is not enough_  
_And if you believe in me, don't think my love's for free  
I won't take nothin' less than a deeper love_

_Let me tell you, I know I need a miracle, I need a miracle…_

The water cascaded down and she kicked and stomped in it, creating patterns of spray around her and the novelty of it was picked up by the crowd around her; soon they were all stomping in rhythm together, spinning, rolling, sliding, in a glorious explosion of movement that somehow made it all right; she'd finally worked through her pain and come out on the other side. There was no going back now; she let it go; she said goodbye to her secret dream of love with Noel and just existed in the moment; because that's the way it had to be. He was the answer to her prayer, she wanted so badly to be rescued by his love, _You know..I need a miracle…I need a miracle_…that was exactly what she secretly wanted in her life - it was not physical; physical was all round her, gleaming hard bodies of every species of man and woman who'd lick her ankles and hand over their entire paycheck for a chance at the Valkyrie Lightning of Vahalla. No, it was no less than love, a love match made in heaven that Lightning's heart and soul craved. This time she'd given it her all, even her own lifeblood, and she lost him to her sister. But then in another way, she'd won. She hadn't sold herself, she hadn't begged, she did not try to hold on to something she couldn't have. She told herself to just leave some corner of herself open to love, somewhere, with someone, someday.

She finally slowed down after that, gulping air and laughing with the soaked crowd; her hair was wringing wet, she gleamed with a slick coating of water, sweat, and Etro knows what else, her makeup was smeared, but she was gloriously in tune with herself again. She had a handle on her life again; she laid her heart on the altar, Etro accepted it and burnt it to a blackened ash.

The shadow that was Noel Kreiss leaned on the wall, only the full mouth and firm jaw visible under the hood in dim purple light of the squalid night club; she walked right by him, close enough to touch; he kept still, keeping his hands jammed in the pockets of the hooded jacket with an iron will. He'd totally misunderstood the dynamics of the situation at the party tonight; he vowed he'd be spending a lot more time with a certain dancer to get some answers of what the hell was really going on; this wasn't a spat between sisters; this was something far more primal, something that dug down deep into the rift of the soul, some fundamental difference that set the two against each other.

He'd never seen this face of Lightning before, and it was a revelation and a puzzle to him; it had almost hurt to watch her burn herself out over whatever the hell was eating at her tonight. At first he'd been disgusted, the places the girls went were filthy, low class hells filled with sweating, exotic, extreme examples of the dregs of Academia's society that drank and smoked and inhaled in a frenzy. The atmosphere seemed to be all sex, drugs and beats at first and Noel had promised himself he'd walk away if she spread her legs for anyone here tonight; it was bad enough watching the chorus girls distribute their favors. But contrary to expectation, she went with no one, gave no favor to any dance partner, despite the most obvious offers; oh yes, she had all the bodies she could handle, but she remained a solitaire, a single flashing diamond in the smoky dance hell, somehow pure despite the filth and squalor around her. He just couldn't get over the contrast and fell asleep juggling the mask he'd come to know and this hidden glimpse of desperate purity behind it. Somewhere between sleep and waking, something deep in his soul somehow sparked, then somehow all the negativity changed polarity….a switch flipped…a byte changed from zero to one…something dry and dead was watered…something ugly bloomed into something beautiful.

It had been a long night for everyone, especially Noel, since he had to wait a good half hour before he could ensure he was able to leave undetected; he was good, but there were at least 7 chorus girls to avoid as well as Lightning. He felt like his head had hit the pillow only 10 minutes ago when the sun came in through the crack in the curtains; and his cell was buzzing with 2 texts and a call; he blearily stared at Lightning's text message: 6:38 AM: _Kreiss. Practice at V's 8 AM._

It was 7:03 AM, and he simply rolled, threw the sword scabbard over a shoulder and galloped out the door. 15 minutes later he was pulling onto the curb in front of her place; he was alert and bright-eyed from the swift ride on Hope's velocycle, which ran at blinding speed, being lighter and had Hope's own custom fuel system, which was hellishly efficient and could outrun Lightning's big 7500 in the narrow streets of the city. Lightning was silent, casually dressed in old fatigues and a worn tee shirt, her eyes hidden behind standard military issue aviator's sunglasses, with her gunsaber holster slung over her shoulder. Serah was nowhere to be seen and Noel at first frowned; then Snow poked his head out of the door and threw Lightning her cell and waved at Noel rather cheerfully, so Noel relaxed, knowing Serah was not alone in the house. She stayed silent during the ride to Valhalla and took great care to avoid any physical contact with Noel, which was pretty hard to do in a velocycle; it prickled on the edge of Noel's awareness, and he was definitely getting the sense something was very off. _ What the baste has bitten Lightning's ass? Does she know? Did someone tell her I've chosen Serah? Why is she acting like I'm the last person she wants to see again? I have got to find a way to get her to talk to me; maybe I should listen to the dancer's gossip at Valhalla today; even if Lightning isn't the type to share her feelings, someone may have some observation about this rift between the Farron sisters. Etro, what a night! _He decided to stick around for practice and see how her mood was today, and had half a hope that he'd see another glimpse behind Lightning-the-basting-bitch-of-bitches mask. With the best of intentions he opened his mouth to ask if she'd like him as a practice partner later; she used to constantly ask him when they first were thrown together, and figured she couldn't resist his offer.

He was quite surprised when she all but shut the door in his face. A muffled voice said coldly: "I'll text *if* I need you, Kreiss." It was a far cry from the warmly cordial tone he'd heard the night they paid a visit to a Fal'Cie and he began to mentally review every action that had happened since yesterday through today. He'd made the mistake of asking the sec men drifting in to practice if they'd noticed anything and was rewarded with a sarcastic: "Weelll, if someone would get his head out from between someone's legs, he'd see he'd been licking the ass of the wrong Farron; not my fault if you can't figure it out, shadow hunter. She's right in there, go ask her yourself." This was said with a jerk of the head towards the plasglass viewing panels, where a pink haired bundle of energy was doing some very nasty things to a practice dummy; this time Noel had the grace to notice the blue skirt and nonplussed, stared at it as it was neatly decapitated again, the head kicked to the plasglass as a bloodthirsty scream bled through the door.

"Ouch. Too bad it's the wrong head." The sarcastic guard chortled, as Noel stoically walked off with the echoes of the sec crew's snickers at being snubbed by their darling in his reddening ears.

While Noel was trying to make his way back to Lightning's house on the east side of Academia, Snow was getting into Serah's face in the living room: "Serah, I see what you're doing. You better think twice before you baste with your sister – she's the one who kept you two together after your mom died, it's her money that's paid for your roof, your food, your school, hell, even the clothes you wear! You'd better not alienate her any farther – I'd apologize and tell her you're grateful she even showed up to your little soiree last night. She tried, Serah, she TRIED to be respectable last night, you saw her – why'd you have to snub your own sister and not invite her? It was your birthday, for Etro's sake! Who bought you the bike for your 13th birthday and went without fuel for a week and walked home from work through Oldtown? What's gotten into you?"

"It's about time you saw me! I'm not a little girl anymore, and I can make my choices, make my own destiny! She really keeps interfering with my life! I can't stay out, I can't date this guy, or go to Oldtown, I have to study and go to all those boring academy evenings where all those old professors just drone on, and there's nothing but coffee and stale cake and Hope blushing every time a wear a dress that shows my breasts!"

"You try being Lightning's little sister, Snow! Etro-damn, I can't even stand to be in the same room with her some days! If anyone at school even had half an idea I was related to her, I'd be either spat on by the acolytes or gang-raped by the rest who seem to think my sister is the end-all, be-all baste of bastes! And any sister of hers must be just like her! I want my own place! I want to live my own life! She keeps interfering with any plans I make, did you know what she did to my last boyfriend? Do you? She pulled him off me by the hair and threw him out the door and let all the neighbors watch her pull her gunsaber and shoot the damn doorlock as he beat on the door naked! I tried to make money, honest, Snow, but it always turns out the same – she gets pissed, or when things get a little risky, well, she somehow finds a way to pull the plug!"

Snow knew she exaggerated in more than one area; he'd heard Hope's complaints about Serah's wild behavior at school; she'd gotten in trouble for running around with too many boys , or some very inappropriate ones; the professor Lightning had dragged off Serah had been dismissed for predatory behavior by Hope, as he had made a habit of preying on pretty young girls with the promise of scholarship recommendations; once Lightning had filed formal complaint, then 2 families did also. He was well aware of her machinations to turn a profit, usually at someone else's expense; he'd often wondered privately who Serah had pissed off in the underbelly of Academia; the attacks seemed more in line with the petty con-world of Oldtown; besides, Lightning had connections with the crime lords; many were clients of Valhalla, and she made it a point to not refuse the lords. If anything , Serah would have had the protection of being Light's sister, not their ire, as Noel had theorized.

Snow began to wonder why Noel hung on Serah so; he knew it was part of the job, but lately he'd been with her almost 24/7, only leaving when he had to; perhaps he was a little sweet on her; that face was the undoing of many men, self included. He knew what a trite snotty little jade she was underneath it all, but he couldn't help but be amused by her. He'd keep her under control if he was hers; he had no doubts he could make her his, but he had smarted over the professor. He'd never see Noel and Serah together, he thought he knew the young man well enough to say he was a picky lover, and being nomad, he probably was still untasted; they were a peculiar lot, deeply spiritual, yet tough as beast's hide. He liked the man; he was clever, skilled, and actually had a dry humor for someone so young. Serah might find him pretty, a novelty, but his intrinsic goodness and complex, disciplined character would clash with her own self-indulgent nature.

Snow took a firm stance and calmly rebutted: "Cut the innocent act, kupo. You're the one who's brought this on you AND your sister – you pissed some Oldtowner off, girl. Now you better tell me who it is, before your pretty butt boy runs himself to death or gets his face carved up just because he asked the wrong question at the right time."

Serah's answer was a resounding crack across Snow's tanned cheek; he just laughed :"Oh, you'll have to better than that to get to me, you jade. You're so scared of losing even one gram of control you're trying to tame a desert wolf into a lap dog, because you can't handle it. You could never handle a real man, girl. At least your sister has the guts to take on real men. "

Serah lost it and sarcastically countered in a strident tone:" Oh, real men? Yeah, and just who do you think _she_ was falling for? That basting 18 year old nomad fresh from the desert and a freaking VIRGIN! Yep! The one and only Noel Kreiss, shadow hunter and lap dog of Etro extraordinaire! What a superb example of how to jack your life up– fall for someone you hired 3 years younger than yourself, 3 classes above your caste and never even been with a girl!"

It was Snow's turn to let his hand connect with Serah's face; he did so rather gently, for his fist could easily hold both of her hands; she stood there shocked, her mouth opening and closing and the palm print glowed pink against her alabaster cheek; suddenly Snow was sick of playing like he didn't care, that it didn't matter; this was going too far and Serah needed a lesson in humility and what real men were about. So he took her by the shoulders gave her a shake and shoved back onto the couch as he gave it to her straight: "You are a complete basting jade to keep taking what doesn't belong to you, and that includes not only the money you ripped off from half a dozen students, the drugs and gambling debts I paid off to make sure your pretty little nose wasn't cut off, but every man, virgin or not, that your sister even looked at. You haven't got even half the guts your sister has, and I bet you once you get through with Kreiss, you'll be just as bored with him as you were with everyone after you get your way. You might want to reconsider my offer. That is if I haven't gotten so sick of your shite that I'll go for your sister instead!"

She simply launched herself at Snow and began pummeling him with her fists, her face flushing to match the pink palm print and cursing him with several choice words from the lower levels of Oldtown. He let her exhaust herself, then taking her chin in a grip that brooked no opposition, he raised her quivering chin to make her eyes meet his sparkling steely blue. "You see? No one stands up to you like me. They all cave in at those lovely gems, and I know you too well, jadette. Now kiss me before I change my mind and drop you on your backside."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Noel finally made it to Lightning's small house on the waterfront; he knocked, but figured it wasn't heard above the rolling surf, so he simply walked in. For once in his life, he regretted his silent hunter's tread as he encountered Snow's massive backside with two slim legs wrapped around his waist. He almost lost it, slapping a hand over his mouth to stop a yelp, thinking: _Damn,how did she get back from Valhalla faster than me? Oh my Etro, __Lightning__ and __Snow__? I'd have never guessed that! _He became annoyed as the idea that she'd done it to ensure he'd see it drifted up; maybe she'd found out he'd followed her to Babylon and perversely was being the 20 Gil bar girl he had somehow expected & been disappointed to not find.

Rather fascinated and a touch jealous in mood himself, he stepped back behind the semi-open door to get a glimpse of Valhalla's Valkrie; curious, more than a little envious of Snow's luck in capturing her eye and totally hoping she'd be everything he'd imagined. After all, he was a man. With an appetite for a rose-haired partner, just like Snow's; he could spend his evening imagining how his lovely Serah would look, just like this as he gave her the gift of his body and his love.

The hunger died as a wave of nausea hit; the voice that was moaning in ecstasy was not Lightning's throaty cool purr, but Serah's clear soprano. No. No no no, it wasn't her, his secret darling, his chosen! But there it was, in front of him; Serah was clinging to Snow's massive shoulders and feverishly kissing, licking, biting Snow's golden brown flesh as he was rolling his hips into her like there was no tomorrow. Snow lifted her and she let her head drop as he knelt in another position and gave her an intense, rousing ride to the stars, claiming possession of her beautiful slim body with light caresses and soft rumbling whispers, escalating into a panting, passionate ripple of pleasure, until it washed over them like the ocean waves pounding the shore outside.

Noel leaned against the doorframe, feeling crucified; _Oh Etro, now I know what it really felt like when you died for us; damn, isn't humanity basting jacked up…she was MY girl…and I can't bring myself to even say her name, I feel so used. _ He silently stepped back and blindly made his way back to the 'cycle and just sat there, pulling on Lightning's forgotten aviator shades; he had no idea how long he'd sat there, the surf pounding in his ears as his rapidly emptying soul washed away. His face was now a stern mask as the damage set in; then uncaring, he kicked the engine over and spun out onto the trafficway, like any other 18 year old punk with velocycle.

He almost barked manically later as he thought of it, wishing to Etro he'd just turned around and walked out before seeing Serah's face; he could have lived with the illusion that Serah was his and that her sister Lightning was a real slut; but no; the situation was all basting well jacked up, because nothing fit anymore. _What the baste? Light acts like a pro baste, but turns down a kingpin and is found dancing her fool head off in his bar all night, then gives me the cold shoulder after practically chasing me down to escort her everywhere she wanted to go; then her sister pulling off the falling in love act and somehow winding up today getting hammered by a man who'd practically raised her with her sister; oh yeahhhh… incest is best, I guess. _ He was feeling ashamed, and it was creeping up on him, along with the deep depression that hits when you find out your house of cards came tumbling down, or your rock solid castle was built upon the sand and crumbling away, dispersing in the ocean water with a swirl of glittering sand_…all that glitters is not gold, and I've been eager, so basting eager to buy into her story – oh Etro, how close did I come to selling my soul for nothing, damn it hurts!_

Etro did not answer, letting him feel the weight of what he'd done; he'd let himself get distracted; _never never never trust the city breds; Farrons have no bloodline, no real connections to any family and certainly no good breeding. A pair of whores, with the faces of angels_ he thought…_but of the two, at least Lightning is the more honest. Anyone can buy her time, but at least she doesn't pretend to be in love. Baste it. Why hold myself back anymore? All this time I beg, I search, I pray, and all I get is…nothing. I wonder how much nothing Serah's sister would give me for a week's pay. Baste it, Baste it all. _

Noel strode into Valhalla like he was entering the gates of hell, then sought out the floor manager: "Where's Lightning? Want to talk with her."

"Nope. Not now, Kreiss. She's with private clients tonight, she even requested no one but clients. She's gotta earn her pay to pay you, man. You can sit at the bar and wait. I'll slip her a message."

Noel shook his head, knowing she'd let him sit all night. "No. It might be hours. Can' I just see her? 5 minutes?"

"Look, shadow hunter, clients only. Unless one of them is her stalker and her life is in danger, no way. It'll be my job if I do, kupo."

"Then I'll buy her time." Noel handed his credit chip over.

The floor manager returned about twenty minutes later and gave him his chip back and a time, stating: "You're a bit short, but I'll cover you. Oh yeah, I kept your name off the computer records so Lexis doesn't kick your ass tomorrow. I get you want private." Noel was shocked. He had a fairly good amount in his account from this job, and it was all gone for one hour with a bar girl, and still not enough. "Wait. Will this cover the rest?" He pulled his necklace off and dangled the gold discs in front of the raised eyebrows.

Then he sat down on a bar stool, his head hanging as he begged his heart to hold on a little while longer. Had anyone been able to look under the hood, they would have seen under the curtain of brown silk, the look on his face was totally lost, the blue eyes now crystal sapphires that filled with liquid diamonds, a silent expression of the near-holy pain that tore at his heart like Etro herself bleeding in her crucifixion; in fact, yes, those deep wells of sapphire were running over, bleeding those liquid diamonds, forming beautiful sparkling trails down his bronze face. He stood there in the dark of the bar, his heart bleeding, stabbed through with the memory of Serah's beautiful face lifting in ecstasy as Snow pulled her to him, riding her hard in a stunningly passionate offering to the god of love.

He tried to drink the intoxicant shoved in his hand, and he nearly choked, ready to break down; all he needed was a black hole to drown in, it wouldn't take much at all to just jump off the bridge he had crossed to get here, especially in the night. No one would find him, even if he did survive the jump into the rushing water below.

Then the floor manager waved him up to the 2nd floor entrance; and thus did Noel Kreiss, shadow hunter enter the dark night of his soul with a broken heart. Everything in him was screaming inside, screaming for Serah, for innocence, for kindness, for love, none of which was to be found here this hell.

He stood before Lightning, empty eyed, yet full of pain that he couldn't express. He ducked farther under his hood and slowly sat down to watch her. He couldn't believe he was sitting here in the dark, emptying his credit line to buy her time for the night as a private dancer. He had fallen so far in the space of a few hours he couldn't stand himself, he couldn't stand the pain, and he didn't know how to stop it. She was his last hope before he walked out of here & disappeared forever.

Silently he watched her as she bent over sensuously, her perfect ass swiveling, so different than the slight curves of his lost love; she stopped a moment trying to discern the face of her client buried in the hood; the body was so familiar, yet strange in city jeans and hoodie; she felt him staring at her from the dark recesses of the disguise, a lost, painful, hungry look of a starved man. He sat there, the shame of his fall eating into his soul as he watched her slowly begin to dance in the ever so sexy moves, then spin, pinned to the pole in a hundred attitudes of heavenly beautiful crucifixions that reflected his inner landscape. He wanted something, _anything_ to numb the pain he was feeling, stabbing with every breath he took. He was going down, & going down hard, clutching at any straw to keep the utter night & chaos of his broken heart from completely overtaking him, but he was failing...he was thought he had reached the bottom of the pit, but a new one opened below that; falling deeper, he felt another wave of shame as he realized he was dragging her down with him; she was so damn lovely he wanted to drown in her eyes, he wanted to do all the things to her that he had hoped to do with pretty Serah, a wealth of delicate techniques and gestures carefully gleaned from a million questions he asked of other men and women. All that work on his body, the investment he made into himself, his time, his very way of life all for nothing but the sight of a girl of his dreams eagerly spreading her legs for someone else. He felt completely and utterly worthless as a man. He had so carefully saved the gift of himself for her and now, he had no one to give it to.

He needed a woman, he didn't care if she loved him, all he needed was for her to dance, he loved to watch her dance, he wanted the drug of her body to numb his pain, so he silently plead with his eyes: _Get me off of this acid trip of pain, lie to me, tell me you love me, just tell me you love me, I'll give you anything you want, whatever you need, just let me Etro-basting love you until I can't move, until I collapse on top of you & die, girl…_He started to shake, his throat swallowing convulsively as he watched her walk across the floor to him and he couldn't help it as he burst into tears and hung his once proud head, defeated, bitter. He tried to rise from his seat to back away so she wouldn't see his face under the hood, but his legs gave out and he collapsed on the floor, now tremoring as he turned his head away and choking back sobs, his hands covering his face to keep hiding from her. A hand came up and ever so gently stroked the hood back before two fingers slid below his chin gently raising his face to her. She became very still, taking in the face of her client; she tenderly held her hand to his cheek for a second in a strange benediction; then she leaned over, picked him up like he didn't weigh anything at all & carried him out of the smoky bar into the dark night.

He simply laid there against her, tears silently trickling down as she walked through the tables, past the concerned doormen, who had run forward to see if he needed medical attention; after reassuring them the slim guardian was simply burnt out from the stress, just had a run-in with a couple of ghouls, they relaxed and unlocked the doors to the street; he felt her ribcage expand & contract , the diaphragm vibrating as she called out for the doorman to bring her ride up. It was the velocycle, the 7500, and she simply sat him on it while she mounted. She kept him held firmly against her as they rode through the streets until the hit the highway; it was cool & he simply hung on, the wind freezing his tears on his cheeks. He buried his head into her back as they hurtled through time & space, almost soundless except for the roar of the wind & the motor of the 'cycle; he couldn't hear the screaming of his heart in the dark & he was glad of it, he closed his eyes in a luxury of utter forgetfulness, he wished they could just simply ride like this until the end of time, he was no one anymore, he wasn't Noel Kriess the guardian, he was just a tiny grain of sand on a black beach, he was just a molecule floating in a sea of night, nothing…no one…

Eventually the ride came to an end, he stumbled off the machine, letting himself be pulled along like a zombie into a warmer darkness. He stood there like a child as she undressed him, carefully laying the swords across a table where a candle was lit. He was picked up again & ever so gently placed in a deep pool of hot water; then she simply held him, his head lolling back against her shoulder, as he stared at the patterns of the stars above his head, his soul empty as the night surrounding them. They began to blur, then swirl as his heart broke and took the wound unto itself; he would never be the same again. His love, his only love was gone, now in the arms of another man; his mind flashed back to a what seemed like a thousand memories, glimpses of conversations, situations and he slowly, bitterly realized it had all been a one way street; his own hungry heart and mind had filled in all the gaps with his own imagination, and what was worse, he saw that she had let him do it, never once disillusioned him with a single truth until tonight. He had never had her to begin with. He turned off the memory of Serah & Snow moving together and turned back into the warm shoulder; hands tenderly stroked the brown silk of his hair & rocked him in the hot water as he shook with uncontrollable sobs, grieving the loss from the very bottom of his heart. Afterwards he found himself looping his arms around her neck in a silent plea to not leave him alone; even the thought of her parting from his flesh was enough to send him back into the tsunami of night, so he clutched at her tightly, fiercely pushing his body into hers to stay in contact everywhere he could think of to keep the black maelstrom from eating his mind away.

She held him for what seemed like hours until his trembling stopped, the brow starting to smooth back out into its beautiful clean lines, and he started to breathe without choking up. A kiss was softly dropped on his forehead, then a soft towel was wiping his face clear of tears, leaving him feeling like he was the child he'd left behind so many years ago in a lonely desert wasteland. The caring tender moment put him on level ground for a short space, so Noel drew a deep sigh & reluctantly faced her, thinking he was now the biggest loser on the planet, but no: her gaze was steady; the hard mask he knew was completely, utterly gone, the face now open, tenderly open, expressing an intense outpouring of some unnamable emotion. …_Oh what a sweet basting lie this is…help me…I don't know how to ask you…but help me, get me off this nightmare of pain…lie to me, love me, tell me you love me…just basting love me tonight, so I don't pick up that blade & slice my throat open with it…damn it, get me drunk with your kisses, use your body like a drug, just touch me just once, just once…I need you…all of it…so love me tonight…please…I'll give you everything I have…just Etro-basting love me tonight, girl…_

He knew she'd heard his heart's plea as he felt her lips finally graze his, barely touching, like an angel of mercy passing over him; something in his dark pain-wracked soul caught flame, flooding his veins with warmth, like a drug rush when the heroin infuses through the walls of the arteries, teasing the receptors into feeding on an unforgettable delicious feast of endorphins. It felt so damn good… he wanted more, so he stopped her from pulling away with a hand behind her head, slowly twining his fingers in the roseate strands.

What happened next blew her mind: Noel swallowed, looked at her, his blue eyes lit like the candle flame, then simply and suddenly kissed her back, imitating her with precision; however, when her lips parted slightly in surprise, he dove in deep. The sexy full lips twisted against hers, turning to fit closer; his tongue slowly yet insistently introduced further intimacy, softly slipping in and probing until she couldn't help herself any longer and gave in. She was dimly aware of her body being bent slowly backwards as he kept his mouth on hers, eagerly exploring now with deep firm thrusts, even briefly sexily sucking on her own tongue which had ever so gently tasted his mouth, a hint of some warm spice like cinnamon in the background of warm wetness. It was instant addiction, a dose of physical heroin so pure, she almost grew faint at the rush hitting her bloodstream. He slowly and deliberately withdrew from her sweet mouth ending with a gently savage tug of animal white teeth on her lower lip, leaving her with no doubt about what he wanted.

It was irresistible; she loved him to begin with, & simply couldn't resist him, her secret sin of a thousand lonely nights. He found himself pulled to his feet, she was leading him from the deep pool of water up steps, then swathed him in towels as she dried him lying on the bed; she'd laid his head in her lap and gently worked fingers through the mass of damp hair and soothed the troubled brow, tracing the contours of the face she had dreamed of caressing almost every time she saw it.

He'd never been treated this way before, it was like she was worshipping him, now stroking the soft Turkish toweling gently over his body, brushing his hair, rubbing palmfuls of oil into his skin in a slow, calming rhythm until he glowed like a bronze statue in the soft light of the candles she had lit. He had been turned face down and he could tell the exact moment her hands changed from comforting to something…more. The touch stayed a little longer, strayed a little lower and slowed with a strange sense of shameless appreciation; it was if the sheer feel of him was exciting her, inciting sexual awareness. He shut his eyes and stifled a liquid sound as his mind drowned in a sensory overload of surprise, shock & raw sexuality; desire kicked at its mental cage, screaming to _keep going, don't stop_; he almost pushed into her hands wanting them to touch his firmly muscled body again; he'd never imagined that he want to be handled so; but once those hands had their way with him, he was addicted. She'd moved up his spine and he silently ground his hips into the soft mattress, wanting to be in her, a woman, for the first time in his life. Hell, he wanted to know what it felt like to have her touch him, seduce him….baste him. He laid there imagining the long fingers caressing him while he lay there trapped, gasping and moaning until he was exploding into a white hot supernova of sensory overload …or what it would be like to have her silently command him, pushing him back onto the bed, totally dominating his body, leisurely teasing and tripping every pleasurable sensation until she had him arching to a stunning climax. He'd never thought of a woman in such terms until now; his mind flashed back to the first bite of desire in Valhalla and with a shiver of hunter's instinct again he knew he was the hunter now; the ecstasy of capture invaded him, distracting his bleeding soul, slowly erasing the painful throbbing of his broken heart with a deeper throb.

He was now ready to give her the gift he had so carefully saved after those hands had soothed his body and soul, so he rolled over, pulled the towel out of her hands that had been wiping off oil & threw it to the side. He kept hold of her hand, idly examining it, the soft palm with an old set of callouses like his own from handling a blade, long fingers, a hair fine scar on the forefinger, from a knife fight in a boot camp barracks; he had scars like that too, and now had scars on his heart, so it was no surprise to him that he should want to kiss it. His lips grazed the white line lightly, then as she made to withdraw, he caught it in his teeth; thick eyelashes fell over the blue eyes, as he closed his mouth over her finger. The sensation of that sexy warm wet mouth gently licking and sucking her like she was made of honey was the undoing of her good intent. He was the devil incarnate as he looked up, waiting with a silent expectant gaze. Caught, impaled by that intense glance somehow made impossibly bluer from the reddened whites, she could only slowly nod, then watch helplessly as he interlaced his fingers with hers, then led them down, wrapping her soft palm against even softer velvet skin stretched over hot steel.

He seduced her with everything he had in him, gently persistent in his touch, never allowing a retreat, each change in touch or position another intimacy, until he had completely stolen any self control she might have had, enslaved her body to his will & became his helpless prisoner until he chose to let her escape into the night, but he made it clear there was only one way out: unlocking the gates of ecstasy.

Noel came on to her with that depth of intensity where every touch, every look sets fire to the night, every gesture is fraught with meaning; yet it was done with a savage innocence; – he knew nothing of the skills or the role a man should have; all he had was the memory of answered questions, overheard conversations, tantalizing glimpses…he simply went on instinct; whatever she did, he imitated; then encouraged, he silently begged his partner with his entire being to open up , just for a moment, let him in, not only in body, but in spirit, in soul, in heart …and when she gave in the slightest bit, opening her highest, best defended walls, letting herself look out just for a few seconds, she was swept away by the overwhelming response given in return - this wasn't just throwing fuel on the fire, it was an explosion, an implosion, where everything in sight is consumed in fiery white heat, yet contained in one body - two bodies….he wanted to give everything, take everything, feel every last inch of the body he was holding, because when the dawn breaks, it will be gone, all gone…he denied nothing to his partner, nothing was forbidden, customs, taboos, rules, all, all, no longer existed, because for this moment, this life, it meant he could still feel, live, breathe…. & soon it would be gone, all gone, never to return….tomorrow he would no longer breathe; he would be a walking undead shell with his heart burnt to ashes. But tonight, he was alive, grasping at life with both hands and a desperate heart.

Overwhelmed with this strange & extraordinary feeling, he tried to match every kiss, every caress with the all the intensity he had…which, in turn, was returned exponentially, escalating, until the two of them were grappling in a deathlock, biting, hair pulling, clawing, screaming, tears welling, until they both realized they'd gone beyond, _way _beyond anyplace they'd ever known… Somehow, the words making love were wholly inadequate.

– _Etro, find me a word that describes the utter intensity of what just happened – find me a word that brings it all back, floods my mind with the ecstasy, fills my mouth with the sweet juice of anticipation, a syllable that fills my soul with the longing of addiction, just like this…._

Exhausted, they both just lay there, looking at each other until the lids dropped over their eyes, ocean against sky & they fell into sleep.

Lightning awoke with a dry mouth and got up to get water; she tripped as got up, cursing. She found the source a few moments later; Noel had tied her by the ankle and tied the other end to his own ankle. She flooded with warmth and a shameful sense of excitement as she recalled how it got there. He was still sleeping heavily, so even her trip had not woken him; she carefully cut the sash loose, and freed, slaked her thirst with chilled water from the fridge. She leaned against the doorframe, looking at him sleeping in her bed, the distraught heartbroken face smoothed out into its usual peaceful expression; _What in the hell happened last night to him? Did Serah intentionally set that scene up with Snow? Why couldn't she just have sat him down & just told him, instead of stabbing him through the heart like that? I can't imagine Noel being so be oblivious to any of her signals. Etro, what a little bitch my sister has become…this was too immature, too much. I am going to stop this little mess right now, before it becomes a bigger mess. Etro…if there were a man for me, it'd be Noel Kriess, so help me a little here, will ya? I know he fell in love with my sister, but maybe, just maybe I may have a chance here after all…he came to me, didn't he? _

She sighed & reached for her cell, be damned to the hour. She called the bar & called off for two days, reassuring Lexis she would be back, she was just taking care of a family issue. She called Snow before her sister, as he was a night owl and got the straight story from him. He had known Noel was a bit sweet on Serah, but he never said much of anything about any feelings for her; in fact he talked about her, Lightning, far more, seemingly fascinated by the smallest details about her; he was clearly a man of action to Snow, who actually liked the guy. Lightning could hear the note of genuine dismay , then rising anger in Snow's voice when she told him what Noel had said. He didn't like it when he heard Noel had somehow seen he & Serah together; he really appreciated Noel's skilled protection and it rankled that he, Snow, was seen as cruel trickster. _Like, that's kicking a man in the jewels after you knocked him to the ground fair and square, Light! You can bet I'll be in a certain redhead's business as soon as she's up, sister by another mother…leave it to Snow, he'll chill out the situation. Tell Noel to text me, willya?_

She also called Hope at the Academia to ensure Noel could take a couple of days off with her, and asked if he could come up with an assignment that would get him away from Academia if necessary; she frankly spoke, told him about how emotionally unhinged Noel had become this evening over having his face rubbed into a relationship he could never hope to attain. She evenly replied to Hope's whiplashed comment about Serah that she & Snow would lesson their own most thoroughly, then simply asked him outright if she even had a chance with Noel herself at this point. The sudden silence at the other end boded ill at first, but as he spoke, she could hear the grin in his voice when he said _it's about time! You know, he thought he was sent to Valhalla for you, not Serah…remind him of that. First instincts are rarely wrong, Light._

She decided she'd wait to deal with Serah after she got Noel sorted out; she was sure Snow would light a fire under her until she got face to face with Miss Serah herself...Meanie Miss Farron, wasn't that the nickname in high school? Feeling stronger now, she turned back to her task at hand, getting Noel Kriess in a stable frame of mind. _How could Serah resist such an impassioned plea_? she thought, then suddenly grinned to herself as she realized she was damned glad she did.

Noel slowly came to in the soft grey light of dawn and also tripped getting from bed; Lightning had re-tied the sash to her ankle, carefully fitting her body next to his as he slept on oblivious to the world. He sat and tried to untie his ankle without waking her, but a hand with a blade nudged him; he almost laughed, and took the blade, freeing them from the badly knotted black silk. Last night came crashing back and he turned his head, blushing red to his ears as a soft voice commented: "Well. I confess I've never been with a nomad before and…I _liked_ it."

She lifted a slim leg still bound with a circle of silk about the ankle & dangled it in front of him; "Does this mean we're married or something nomad-style?"

" …No."

"Pity, after a night like that, I'd have said yes."

He turned to look at her, the strawberry ice tint of her hair igniting brief flare of pain _Serah, oh Etro…_ as he took in her face, and it wasn't cruelly teasing him, it was charming, a crystal blue eye peeping out from the extravagant tumble of asymmetrically cut hair flowing over one side of her face, the little cat chin shifting as her pale rose lips quirked into a smile, blindingly beautiful as a sunrise or a cool fountain of spring water in a desert.

He was profoundly grateful he was alive this morning, and in a warm bed instead of a bed at the bottom of a cold river. _I threw myself planless & ready to die on your breast Etro, and you succored me, how can I thank anyone, thank her for this?_ He drew breath to speak, gathering courage to say his thanks & stumble back out onto the street of wherever he was in Academia, intending to put the lower city in his rearview mirror before nightfall , but was stopped short when she bounced out of bed, caressed his cheek, then managed two cups of tea from the kitchen. He had partially dressed, finding his city jeans and hoodie, but the t-shirt had gone missing; he saw his blades and belt pack on the table with boots neatly stowed below. She pulled on a similar outfit, he was surprised to see his tribal necklace he'd had to cash in to Valhalla to buy her now glinting in an odd contrast to the city clothes; he felt his neck, missing its weight, but found a chain on his neck; he brought the pendant up to view and saw it was hers, a stylized lightning bolt in a white metal with small square cut gems inset cunningly without prongs. She shrugged and said: "It only seemed fair to give it to you –it looks better on you than me, anyway. So…what's on your mind today? Do things appear different in the light of day?"

"I…things got messy last night in my mind, Lightning. I really was just basting out of my mind - I feel like shite for coming into Valhalla that jacked up and freaking out while you were trying to work. I just felt like...like…I just didn't want to go on, you know? It took the fight right out of me." He paused waiting for her to go into her protective mode over her sister, but she oddly kept silent, her face hardening at the word sister,as she sipped her tea, leaning back against the counter. He spoke again, but soberly, quietly giving it to her from the heart: "Lightning…For what little it's worth, thank you. Thank you for…for not kicking me out to the street for falling for Serah…for not pushing me away when I needed someone…for letting me stay here with you. You..saved me; I had some dark thoughts last night and I almost drowned in them. "

She reached out and took his hand and simply held it, then spoke without looking at him: "I nearly drowned once too, Noel. I didn't have a hand to hold onto. You deserve that….and more. "

"My…sister…has behaved badly, Snow and I have decided she has gone too far. He's..well, he's looked out for Serah ever since de-um, my father went missing, and they've , well, been off & on again a million times. Apparently no one else stands up to her. He had no idea you were in love, he just thought you had a crush, like any other guy. He knew how much it hurt, and he's not a complete idiot when it comes to loyalty…which he thinks you've earned in his book by protecting Serah and not laying hand on her. I…we…will NOT be cleaning up her messes anymore. It's time she took some accountability for her actions. I don't give a damn if she's expelled from Academia, or gets her pretty face mauled by a rival gang or someone's lover...hell, if anything had happened to you because of her shite, I'd have taken her out, blood be damned; she does no honor to the name of Farron."

She nervously drank some more of her tea, almost shyly glancing at him in the early morning light; she gathered her courage, set the cup down and jumped off another precipice.

"Anyway…I've called off for a couple of days; you need to take a couple yourself. I really would like to spend them with you, Noel, because…because I have an offer. Here's what's on my table: I got you into this mess; I should have just went with it when you first showed up at Valhalla, hired you to protect me instead of Serah, despite my reservations at the time. I am a damned fool for not. I don't know if a couple of days together will make any more difference, especially after last night, but I hope you'll just stay and see if we can get to know each other better than what we have. You've impressed the hell out of me as a man, as well as a guardian. Consider that. Please consider that, Noel."

He expelled the breath he had been holding with a soft whew & looked over at her, eyes now sparking; he spoke in a measured tone that rapidly escalated into a hissing rage saying: "So…Serah's sister offers her glorious self as a consolation prize for Serah's bad behavior? You seem to have arranged my life in a neat little package, but did you even stop to ask me how I might feel about it? I'm supposed to be handed all this and be forced to accept it, because it's what someone else decided what's good for me? And I guess I'm supposed to be so grateful for any bone or crumb of attention from a woman who is the toast of the town for being THE notorious Lightning of Vahalla, the baste of all bastes, every man's dream lover and fantasy for their bed? Oh, it was a hell of a night, my Valkryie, consider your reputation not only well deserved, but exceeded in all ways! But what happens after? Can you even function in normal activities of daily living at all? Even the simplest apartment requires cohesiveness. Can you even make money if you're not dancing half nude & pretending a pole is a man's asset? You have no skills, no inheritance, no breeding and no connections, girl! Lightning Farron, you are the LAST woman on this planet I'd seriously want ! "

He rose, grabbed his swords, stormed to the door and screamed at the top of his lungs before he slammed it shut: "I'll make my OWN destiny!"

She sat there, her face now white under her artificial Desert Glow tan for what seemed like hours before she said into the quiet: "But I love you, Noel Kriess, with all my heart…I do. Come back. Please come back."

Hope found her there, after he'd called six times and sent texts twice; for the first time in years he saw her face naked, the pain and fear she kept hidden, the hard-as-iridium mask gone as she looked over at him and repeated the conversation word for word. He packed a bag for her, took her by the hand to the two wheeler and followed her back to his own apartment high up in academia's towers, then settled back into a couch, holding his dearest friend and champion as she laid her head on his shoulder and cried like the young woman of 21 years she really was, until she could cry no more, soothing her as best he could. They watched the sun set, clouds high up in the air turning gold, then fierce grey streaked with apricot and carmine, just like the day they talked about things when he was just 14 and scared to die just a boy without knowing what it was to be a man. He tightened his embrace as he fell asleep with her on the couch thinking: _Odd how things had come full circle._ _Etro, help her. Help Noel. I see this love was meant to be, why can't they? _


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

A flyer passing by overhead in the early evening sky woke up Hope & Lightning lying on the couch, and they stumbled to the kitchen to get water and look for something to eat, as Lightning's appetite was starting to return; they ended up sitting in an old haunt, a hole in the wall that grilled skewers of meat or seafood in front of them in a tiny grill washed down with beer. Hope gently prodded her with questions until she finally saw what he had seen.

What had happened was simply life: Yes, her decisions had steered things in certain directions, but Serah had made choices, and would keep on making bad choices until she learned that she had a responsibility to herself. If it wasn't Noel who wasn't hurt, it'd be someone, somewhere. Hope frowned when he heard the nomad's haughty refusal of her offer, but also defended Noel, stating it was most likely when she said it , or how she said it, versus what she said. "Any offer of love or friendship is quite serious to Nomads; the only thing that means more is the sacred hospitality of the desert traveler. It's not given or taken lightly. But they are a singular lot, Light. Being alone for so long gives even the smallest thing import, with long memories; he may remember a girl giving him a drink at a well when he was 13, then go back 10 years later and pick her out of a crowd and pursue her with an intensity that can draw blood, if challenged. He may have said no today, but don't be surprised if he carves the eyes out of the next man that even looks at you at Valhalla. They all have this thing about waiting for the right time, the right person, the right place. The desert teaches them not to hurry, unlike us in the city. Give him some time."

"I don't think that's going to happen, Hope. I know the ring of truth when I hear it – I'm just a paid whore to that man_." What's worse is I agree with Noel – I've been whoring myself for almost 5 years and for what end? To keep a family together that doesn't want me as family? To watch a good man ruin himself? The song's right: All the good ones are taken. _

"However, I should tell you something, and it will sting a bit; you were damned foolish for putting Noel with Serah instead of yourself. You're the elder and you've the talent – you were a greater target, the greater loss than your sister; you let your habits overrule your instinct this time. Do you see it?"

_Here's something else you didn't see, my jaded blood: It was __you__ he dove for in that attack, not Serah; Shadow Hunter Noel Kriess already picked you as his – it's no surprise to me you'd end up in his arms. _

Hope shook off the gut wrenching memory of Noel and Lightning plummeting off the roof into space like a comet, until the spider-silk of his rope unraveling from his waist pack ran out & sent the pair arcing between the skyscrapers instead of lying crushed and broken on the ground. He decided it was time to tell her his theory on why she and Serah were targeted.

"So…Kriess said you had no family? No breeding? No inheritance? Light, you have all that and more."

Puzzled, she simply held his gaze as she tilted her bottle of beer up and swallowed.

"Do you remember your father at all? Ever wonder why you never saw your father's side of the family after he was declared dead? I hate to disparage the memory of your mother, but Light…she made choices without consulting the family; in her defense, I think she was simply in an emotional state after your father disappeared and was doing what she did best: protecting her own. To put it simply, she moved away, cut the family ties and…disappeared from the society she was born into. Your mother kept you from them. She hid herself and the two of you away, and they forgot about you…for a while. Did she leave you anything? Your father did. You have a name, a noble name, Light."

"No I don't! She told me Farrons were as common as dirt. The only thing I have of dad is dad's necklace. No…wait...I gave it to Noel; he gave me his…see? I thought it was something he valued, a family piece, you know? so I took it as my cut, and I thought I might return it later." She sighed a bit sadly before speaking again: "Damn, now I'll never see it again. It was the one thing that kept dad's memory with me every day. I kept thinking maybe Noel did the same with this." She slipped the intricately braided leather cord over her head and idly swung the necklace in her finger, watching the gold discs twinkle in the dim light of the little bar.

"I think so, Light…it looks to be about 5 generations old – and it's pure gold. Nomads wear their wealth; according to the Imperate records, he's a pureblood, so he's not a poor boy by any means. But your necklace was also to be valued, Light."

"Are you sure?"

"It was a lightning bolt, right? Like this?"

He showed her a picture off his cell, her pendant, sparkling, but with icy blue white gems, not the vivid golden shade as hers were. She nodded, now curious. Hope took her hands in his and leaned in close, his soft green eyes sparkling and just as hard as the gems in the pendant as he told her the truth: "That pendant was pure iridium and Sun's Eyes and it's worth just as much as a five generation old nomad necklace, if not more. You could buy Valhalla with the metal alone. Your father tried to ensure you would not be in want, but your mother didn't know. And that's not all. Farron is the most common name out there because it's one of the oldest names on Pulse, woman."

Lightning shut her eyes as she realized she'd been wearing a 5 million Gil safety net around her neck for 6 years. Overwhelmed by her father's secret love-gift she moaned and sought Hope's warm hand to reassure herself she was still on Pulse and not in the wrong timeline. Hope interlaced fingers through hers, kissed the scars on the left knuckles from that fateful day of the Purge, held them up to his cheek before ever so quietly, ruthlessly continuing with the roll list of facts: " Darling girl, my sooty winged angel…Farron means 'handsome servant'; your father Edward was given the surname as his title when the Fal'Cie knighted him before the great purge. You're not from some commoner line scratching dirt with 16 other mouths crammed in subsistence housing. You're like me, Light. You're House Imperate. Both your mother and your father."

After she stared at him in startled silence, she burst out with questions, then shut her mouth when Hope softly hushed her with affectionate 2 fingers over her lips. He continued the story when they got back to his place, pulling his dossier of research into the mystery of why two women, one a bar girl, one a student, were targeted by a professional assassin team. It took another two hours of papers, old news archives, government online records, a half carton of ice cream, a cigarette, two beers and a late-night sushi delivery before she was convinced and he ran out of words. In short, two of the attempts were Fal'Cie acting by command of an insulted god to twist one strong willed shadow hunter, but it was also upper city intrigue: someone knew they were Farrons, and wanted them dead before they found out the truth – and it wasn't the Farrons, either. Noel had done a tremendous amount of research based on his extraordinary flash of intuition and Hope's pattern-seeking, brilliant, theory-hopping brain managed to help put it all together in one cohesive summary. She ceased to underestimate the interior of Noel's head and applauded her cousin's brilliance after nearly screaming once presented with the fact she was what he said she was. After downing a double shot of Hope's top-shelf vodka, gasping at the unreality of the truth and letting Hope attempt to open a bottle of champagne, which exploded and fountained over both of them, did she allow herself one good tackle and a round of enthusiastic hugging.

Clearly surprised, he returned the hugs, and with the clarity that come when one is fairly inebriated, she could tell by the way he kept hold of her longer than necessary, that her painfully shy, gorgeous, elegant cousin was still attracted after 5 years. She almost put him off, but something inside made her re-think her earlier decision at age 16. They were adults now; she was grateful for years of his steadfast support, and she had only one coin to pay him in; herself. So she drifted around the apartment for a few moments to gather her courage to offer herself.

She looked out the window at the cityscape at night strung out in glittering necklaces of sun's eyes in a muted twinkling rainbow below them as she said: "You know, it's too bad we're related, I was just about to see if that offer for a bed was open. Perhaps I should just…go forward. "

"It still is. But I know who your heart really belongs to. I wish I could say I had the passion to match his, but the truth is, my jade, I know you too well; we've been through…too much. " He shut his green eyes as Vanille's face came forward in his mind, piercing him again with pain, despite 6 years distance from the incident . Light simply nodded, remembering with the same pain. "Vanille. Never forget. She'll always live as long as Hope & Light remember." Then she firmly turned her head to Hope to reach out and hold him, sure he was going to weep at the loss again, and her jaw dropped as she saw Hope finish quietly stepping out of his clothes, almost shyly looking over at her through the mass of icy hair waving over an eye like a feral cat, glowing green in the night.

They did share the bed that night; they both knew their hearts were in someone else's hands, but Hope couldn't help wanting to hold her through his lonely nights as an Academian. He'd been approached by men, but he was geared towards women, and they seemed afraid of him, or such opportunists, he retreated behind a polite mask of a professional. He never told Light, but Serah had given him his first experience in sex; he was ashamed to admit he had closed his eyes and imagined it was Lightning, even at age 15 he'd had been intrigued by her. She did not disappoint him in the least, and it did his confidence a lot of good to be able to hold a beautiful woman all night and wake up next to her in the morning, relieved it wasn't his imagination and his left hand.

He was always a considerate, polished, lover, and she gave him the tenderness he needed, as in many ways he was still so young inside. He was in a top position, a protégé of the Fal'Cie ruling class, and it set him apart. Being seen with a mortal woman like Lightning, especially with her scandalous past, actually did his own reputation as a man good instead of harm.

The affection was not one-sided, and Light did not stint her cousin in anything he asked; she gave with a real sense of tenderness, brought his gentle wit out, slowly influenced his reticent personality until he began to shine like the polished, warm, clever and strategic leader he so wanted to be.

Over the weeks they were together, he slowly hammered and forged his Light with lessons until the rough edges were smoothed away, and the address and etiquette of the high court came as naturally as breath to her. There were secret lessons in sensuality taught which she never forgot: hours of a hand simply caressing her head as she leaned it against his knee….an afternoon spent in nothing but her prized pink ice high heeled sandals, being slowly dressed from head to foot in sparkling gems 'borrowed' from the Estheim estate; Hope throwing a credit chip at a waiter as he reached across the table and pulled the stopper of the crystal bottle of 50 year liquor, then ever so delicately tilting it over her bare shoulder and licking it off; she didn't remember if the waiter closed the curtains to the booth, but she remembered the way Hope was just as delicately fed his dessert, one strawberry at a time…the supremely erotic hour of being slowly dressed in a high court kimono, the layers of thin silk the only barrier between herself and Hope's hands; the obi being tied with a breath-taking tightness and with the tenderness that a dominant has when preparing a submissive for the rituals of pleasure…and even more so, the secret delight of knowing she was the one whom would be leaving with the very handsome young man with arresting argenate locks over eyes like the new green of the spring leaves now outside.

Noel would have never recognized the sleek image of lightning in the news cams, or the blogs; elegant and cool, the lost line of Edward Farron was found , and in the notorious Valhalla, no less. She and Hope were made into a star crossed couple for about 9 weeks, until she rejoined the Corps. Hope didn't mind the temporary fame; he & Light were no strangers to each other and it kept some of the more pushy men & women in the Academy off his back. With a secret humor, he ensured she was on his arm at all academy functions, just as she done for him so long ago. She was now gowned to advantage, her hair tinted icy silver white like his, and elegantly bejeweled according to her status in the Fal'Cie class. In fact, it gave him a great deal of pleasure to undress her from all these fine things, he would whisper in good humor as he would kiss her shoulder to start a gentle session of loveplay.

Edward Farron's holdings had gone to a second cousin and the government, but Hope had cleverly claimed only a 20% right, so it was simply reimbursed from the treasury & the cousin' s holdings with little argument. He knew once they met Lightning, they'd accept her and the 20% would grow from wise investment advice from the House Farron; however, the real goal was for her to know she had family.

She was invited to visit and remake family acquaintance, so she went, leaning on Hope; it turned out fairly well, they were reassured she was not a guttersnipe as Noel so kindly put it, but someone they had let fall by the ways due to faulty relations with her parent; by all means she had the family traits - she'd pulled her weight in caring for her sister, made the most out the situation she had been in, just like any of them would have done & kept her head up and her nose clean, and with determined stubbornness they knew so well, as each of them had it in plenty. She finally stood before the portrait of Edward Farron that afternoon and saw she was more like him than not; they brought out more images, books, cammed recording from family functions; other cousins were called and they simply talked through the evening, fueled by liquor and firelight, music and their children's and grandchildren's eager eyes; the elders all told the old stories of Edward Farron, until she put down her glass and wept, slowly realizing all this, a family, a name, pride, honor, had been kept from her all this time. They were pleased with her then, as she longed for the things naturally that were her right, and took into their hearts.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

A Year Later

Noel Kriess let the water of the shower roll over his tired body, which had gathered a great deal of dust and sweat from the practice rounds of self defense in the practice areas which were set outside today.

"Hey, pretty boy! You gonna give me that necklace if I win tomorrow?" the voice was sultry with a clear mountain people accent, making him smile briefly; Mayatris was always flirting with him, which he didn't mind, as it was usually just her way of being competitive; she was one of the best hand to hand fighters in her unit and was bucking for a promotion besides; so anything she said was taken with a grain of sand.

"When you get your own command, we'll see about that duel, Maya!" He shot back; he felt for the necklace unconsciously, feeling the little lightning bolt superstitiously; he remembered how he got it, then laughed at himself at the memory of the day he had disgustedly tried to sell it to make trip money to the Guardian Corps boot camp. He had practically thrown it down, despising it, as it brought back his ridiculous one sided love affair with Serah Farron and her sister's outrageous offer the next day, after dragging her into the mess by basting her half the night, ok, _all _night after crying on her shoulder. The jeweler's hands had trembled and he wondered if he'd made a mistake – maybe Lightning had reported it stolen? But no, the database was clean. The jeweler had refused the sale; angrily he'd demanded why, it was gold, was there something wrong with selling it? The jeweler shook his head, then calmly replied he didn't have enough money in his bank account to cover the price of the metal. It was iridium, not gold. The gemstones were sun's eyes, the most coveted jewel on the planet, SV-III in quality. He simply didn't have enough money to buy it. Shocked, Noel stood there as the realization he had been wearing the price of ship around his neck sank in; he simply blurted out in confusion: _how could a girl like that get a necklace like this?_ The jeweler laughed and said she was either of the Imperate house, or was Etro herself in disguise! Then he kindly recommended his friend down the row who dealt in iridium. Noel ended up with a loan for a ticket from the jeweler, whom was sent more than a few commissions later, when he could afford to buy precious metal jewelry.

He slowly dried off in the locker room, tuning out the noise and chaffering until it got really noisy, then he automatically yelled " Lower your voices, ladies & gentleman!" with the bored air of sergeant, the rank they gave all weapons masters. His was the sword and he trained them all well, which gave him some purpose in life after his last case as a personal bodyguard. Maybe he'd take it up again after he got out of the corps. The Fal'Cie could find him anywhere in the universe when they deemed him fit to return to the upper city in their oblique logic.

"…but I hear there's one real looker coming on board tomorrow! I hear she's quite the expert in the gun saber and tough as nails! The director of the Academy has his eye on her for his personal corps, maybe even the Imperate guard, or so I hear, so you better watch where you place those dirty paws, sirrah!"

" Oh? How about I place them here, you like that, eh?"

" Ohhh! now I'll have to stuff you in that locker, it took me a half hour to press that shirt, damn it all!"

"Hey Sarge! Will we get to chew into the new unit tomorrow? I'm aching for a new ring partner! Maya is getting predictable!"

"I'll see what I can do! But stay away from the lookers, will you? They will get you killed in fight, you're always looking at them instead of your enemy! Better an ugly one who can fight, than a beauty who'll let you fight for them!"

"Yessir!" a chorus shot back at him; various comments were made about the prettiness of the sergeant's face and offers were made to make it less so, growling that they couldn't get a woman for love nor money when he was out with them off duty. He laughed and shooed them out, walking back to his room well satisfied with the day…the last one he was to enjoy for many days afterwards.

The new unit piled in early, a full complement of 48, which excited the base, as they were special Ops trainees; most were highly placed in society, sons and daughters of the Imperate house or spectacularly talented in some area deemed necessary to the defense of the corps. Noel shrugged, somewhat indifferent, as all trainees had to learn to work as one; only a select few could handle the specialized training to be the army of one. His eye ran down the list of names on computer screen tablet; his eye fell on Farron & his breath caught, but relieved, he saw the name Claire, not Lightning, or Serah. He doubted Serah had the sand to complete a Corps bootcamp, but knew Lightning had plenty of sand in her shoes; he remembered a rather energetic dunking of a patron foolish enough to touch her, then her steadfast courage in facing down the Fal'Cie Barthandeus without cringing in terror; her totally insane, totally inappropriate offer bubbled up again from memory, making his stomach twist, then sigh in regret; he touched the necklace again, watching the golden stones refract in a tiny explosion of colors that was always a bit unexpected; it just didn't fit – the necklace was far too valuable for a mere bar girl to own; her manner, her stance, her entire being radiated an unconscious sharpness, an attitude of leadership…almost regal manner in her bearing, so out of place for someone living in the lower strata of society. He had puzzled over it, theories that she was Fal'Cie born on the wrong side of the cradle or a fallen angel from grace; or was a part of the serving class, or even had a Fal'Cie lover – she was certainly beautiful enough to attract the eyes of House Imperate. He threw it all at Hope, but nothing quite fit perfectly back then; there were too many missing pieces of evidence.

He sighed and told himself to forget it, it was not for him to know. He recalled he had gone back to the little temporary tin can of a home that night, intending to apologize for his rude refusal and beg for a couch to sleep on, as he had nothing left but his swords, he had cleaned out his bank account buying her. Everything else he owned was back across the desert and would take weeks to get. Noel berated himself for breaking his people's law of hospitality; a guest never outright refused the host, nor did it sit well that they'd been intimate and she'd had the courtesy to offer for him the very next day. She had been quite sincere, but Etro! He was a purebred, his line went back 5 centuries, he was janissary the highest caste on both sides of the cradle. There was a right time, right place and right person for all things, but would Etro guide him to this? A bar girl with the baddest reputation in the most notorious dive of Oldtown? Were the gods crazy?

He walked into an empty dark house, and sat there, wondering if she'd come back. He fell asleep in her bed, holding the pillow, breathing in her scent, calming himself as he made it through his second night without Serah in his broken heart. The dawn brought no Lightning; he kicked his heels at her place, nervously drinking the tea he'd made for them both until he realized he'd insulted a woman that had connections despite not being Fal'Cie, and she just might be somewhat irritated at his blunt assessment of her place in life. So he packed some food & took whatever change he could find & started walking. Eventually a Corps recruiter took pity on him two train stops away, and let him sleep on his couch. The next day, he'd signed up and never looked back.

The practice rings were lively that afternoon as new contacts were made, and new patterns of attack and defense were introduced by the new trainees; true to the rumor, there were lookers, talented lookers at that, pleasantly exciting to the more experienced corps in training. Everyone was in awe of a lovely dark haired girl, a daughter of a senator with a sweet face but a deadly skill in gunsaber already; she'd been trained since she was 12 with it by her own mother, who had wisely feared assassins; Noel was tempted to fight a round with her, and ran into the ring with Maya; the girl was swift, calm and nearly fearless, having learned the lesson of trusting her weapon. She nearly took his own head off, after she demonstrated a clever move, dropping to her knees and moving on them as strikes whistled above her head, leaving her free to riposte under the arm of her opponent. He was caught himself, then after the practice ended and they all made their bow, he caught up with Djanel and asked about the move. She smiled, bowed again and told him in the second form of polite address to non-Imperate whom were to be respected: "Oh, thank you Sergeant Kreiss! My mother trained me, but the drop move is actually Trainee Claire Farron's. You should ask her – she makes me look like a total amateur with a gunsaber, especially in tight corners. She's just right over…well! I guess she's already in the showers! I don't see where she went to! Shall I tell her you want to see her?"

"No, Trainee Djanel. I'll catch up with her later. I am sure she'll be in the ring soon."

"Oh, she already was! You didn't see her?"

Puzzled, he stared after the mass of retreating trainees, wondering why he didn't catch a superbly talented trainee like Djanel when he eyed the fights over. He shrugged and ran to catch up to Maya for her report of the trainees. He reviewed the recorded tapes later that night, idly looking for talent, but again puzzled he didn't find anyone like Djanel with the gunsaber. The name Farron came up to haunt him again, and he switched the display to full color, scanning for a head of pink strawberry ice in an outrageous expensive asymmetrical cut; there was no such tint on anyone's head, but an interesting shade of blue on one young man's pate, whom he decided to make an example of tomorrow. Blue was too easy to pick out in a desert landscape. He'd have too much fun.

Lightning kept her head down, and swiftly walked off the practice ring; she'd taken the greatest of care to not draw attention to herself, even playing down her skills on a day when she should be playing them up to get the coveted positions in the ranks. She didn't live for glory, she simply lived. She rejoined the Corps after several heartfelt conversations with Hope, who gambled on her talent and won handsomely; he had made sure her dossier was seen by the Academy, as well as the high court; she was being groomed for her proper role now. He was proud of her hard work and acceptance of her true self, her family line; it was only a matter of time before she'd explode on the scene of Academia; he held no hope for any deep romance with her, despite the fact that he knew her heart better than anyone else alive, but he simply didn't feel that spark of passion for her. It was all burnt away when Vanille died in the purge.

She, in turn, gave him all her loyalty in return for the favor of holding her through not one, but two long sunsets in her life; she prayed she could make it through this month of training without having to confront sergeant weapons master swordsman first class Noel Kriess. It was a big place, there were plenty of places she could hide, plus she had Hope's number to get her out quick. She had sent a text back once she had found out Noel was in the Corps; Hope had shot back: _Do you want out now before it gets messy? _She had replied: _Not yet. I am now an iridium rat, LOL! Plenty of rat holes here. Let's see if I survive a week. I'll text if I get in a jam…love you Hope. CYA._

The next morning was good, they were out in the field to practice; she groaned as she saw one of the boys on the team she was on had a head of intense blue hair; she grabbed him & hastily jerked him down, then furiously dumped sand & dirt on it to dull the tint, which stood out like a flag against the tans and duns of the desert landscape. She ended up tying a piece of his undershirt over his head, which worked well. They finished the exercise without getting totally incinerated; Noel was intrigued the trainee had the presence of mind to disguise his hair and called him forward to make an example of him, but in a better way than he had originally planned: "Now, look everyone ! Here is what I am talking about! Adapt to your environment! Take a second to adjust yourself to the landscape, it will save your life! Great job, trainee Eldous. Fall back now."

"Uh, sir? It was really Trainee Claire's idea…I – I mean Trainee Farron, sir!" noting Noel's frown at the inappropriate mention of a first name.

"Trainee Farron? Step forward to be recognized!" Silence. Noel frowned again, his blue eyes beginning to harden: "Trainee Farron! I said STEP FORWARD!" Silence.

"Uh, sir? I think she may be back up on the cliffside sir – look behind you. I don't think she can hear you, sir." Noel squinted his eyes against the sun and saw a slim white haired figure climbing down a good 400 yards away, idly flipping through space with a lean grace when she reached the last boulder, then running to catch up to the other group of trainees leaving the field. He shrugged and said to himself, _I'll catch her at the mess hall tonight. _

Again, he was disappointed, and multiple times afterwards. Trainee Farron had already eaten and was in the field with the hand to hand combat master's group; Trainee Farron had already been up at dawn and was running her 3 miles for warmup; Trainee Farron was still in the field with a team, looking for trainee Emado's lost gunsaber; she was everywhere but in his sight. He almost dropped it, thinking he simply was just obsessing over the name, or just had an overzealous trainee in the ranks; but a comment overheard gave him pause; then he decided he was going to nail trainee Farron down one way or another. He had overheard Maya flirting with Emado, a gorgeous young man with skin like yellow satin, his warm brown eyes set at an intriguing slant with a ready smile And an even readier gunsaber. "…Oh? Aren't you and Sarge Kriess an item? "

"Why no, Emado, how could you say that? I give him crap, because he's so walled off from everyone; I think there's a heartbreak there and he has yet to talk to anyone about it! I don't like breaking hearts at all, I am always about the romance, Emado!" _Oh Etro, you lying jade!_ Noel thought as he rolled his eyes. He'd narrowly missed being coupled with Maya more than once, and the idea just didn't appeal. He was a nomad, he was used to being alone for long periods of time; only what totally suited him, what was the best would do for him, but the best he'd already tasted, then thrown away so long ago…

" Well that makes two of a kind, Maya! I think Claire is a broken heart also; I think she avoids us all because it's still fresh….but I can see you breaking more than a few hearts with that smile! Watcha doing Friday night? Get rid of Kriess and I'll make sure you get treated like a lady!"

"Oh, I will! By the way, He's been looking for Farron and getting more pissed off by the day; she's shown some talent and the Corps wants talent, you know! Tell her so she doesn't end up disciplined!"

"Oh Etro, is she talented! I think she' either an Imperate incognito, or she just doesn't like Kriess. She just simply melts into the scenery the second Kriess is in scope. Those royals are a touchy lot, you know. He's nomad blood, isn't he? Maybe the two are fire &ice when they meet, never the two shall see eye to eye, ya know? I hear they get punished for speaking to a lesser class in anything but the second form of polite address! Maybe she's just being polite by avoiding a fight!"

"I hear you – It is easier to avoid a fight than try and fight one! I don't blame her – I sure as hell wouldn't want to get in a fight with Kriess! He scares the Chaos out of me with the way he moves – he's silent as a shadow! I'd be down with a slit throat before you could say bless me Etro! By the way, is dinner in the plan for Friday night?"

"Wear a dress, and see!"

_Hmm…Friday night it is,_ Noel smiled to himself. _Perfect for a little night Ops: Project – who is Trainee Claire Farron?_ He pretended to let it go, and went about as normal, but always kept a corner of his eye alert for peripheral movement; any good hunter knows prey will just stay out of the line of sight to avoid being seen. And he was all about the prey this week.

He carefully looked up her dossier, hoping to get an image from her induction day, but got nailed with a security restriction code. He flirted with the records clerk, even though he didn't like men, but only got a single screenshot of an Academian assessment summary of her fighting techniques and magic abilities. Next, he quietly ordered the trainees to be taped, and had the tapes dropped on his desk every night; he spent his off hours scanning for a white haired slim figure; he caught glimpses of her back entering the showers, her face distorted by the spray of water and steam; a slim hand on Djanel's arm while walking down the hallway to practice was caught, but it looked like any other lady's hand, no scars, no tattoos, no piercings, nails cut short. It wasn't until he saw the practice fight tapes in the arenas that he got a sense of what she was: silver white hair, the face de-pixellated and blurred from the distance the camera was set at, but obviously slim , seemingly aristocratic , a delicate turn of elegance in her bearing; but in watching her slim body moving in action was when he did get a real feel for her – by Etro, she was a talent, she was utterly ruthless, precise, clean, and could move her body with a fluidity of a dancer, she used anything & everything to gain advantage or leverage, uncluttered by emotion or preconceptions of what war was like. She understood the true precept of war: she was a killing machine, she was created, trained to destroy. And how he respected that.

He was looking at the match to his own skills, his own Etro to his Odin. The hunter in him flowed hot with desire and he hurried to push the cammed tapes forward, breathless, eager. He became even more puzzled when the sparring was underway in the common practice ring; she deliberately avoided certain moves, pretended strikes hurt her more than they did, even acting out scenes where she fell or pretended she was clumsy, just like a skilled comedian in a play, or a stunt man. Then it hit him: She was hiding what she was deliberately. The only reason she could have was clear; Trainee Claire Farron was a spy. Maybe she was PSICorp, an enemy; at best, a mole for a corporation or the Imperate. Maybe even a ghoul for a Fal'Cie. He broke into a sweat at the thought. Then he began to plan, so very carefully, not leaving the smallest detail to chance. Then he hit the comm signal for his team.

Friday night came and Claire was relieved she had avoided Noel for the entire week. It couldn't last forever, but she hoped she'd be out of the camp before he could do something once he found out Trainee Claire Farron was a, um…_lightning_ bolt from his past. She sent texts to Hope every night to keep her spirits from flagging. He would end every one by saying: _everything has a way of working out, just let it_. She waited until everyone had left on leave to the various roadside cantinas and off duty pleasures, and the lights were turned down; she decided to take a turn in the practice arena with an automated program, then maybe sneak to the back door of the nearest cantina to get a steak; Corps food was good, but the idea of a steak was irresistible. She swung her gunsaber up over her shoulder and began to trot into the empty practice arena ring; she stopped suddenly as lights blazed on, blinding her; she instinctively dropped, pulling her weapon into position.

No one attacked & she looked up to find her enemy; at first she thought maybe she'd just triggered something by accident. But no, it was a trap. The benches were filled with the entire crew of trainees, all looking at her with hard suspicious faces, even Emado. A lone figure walked out into the ring and simply gestured for her to come forward. She stayed where she was. _Always let the enemy come to you._

Sargeant Noel Kriess' deep tenor spoke lightly, despite the nastiness of the subject: "Trainee Claire Farron, so there you are. I've been looking for you high & low all week. I wondered why such a trainee was hiding her light, instead of trying to outshine everyone with her obvious talent. So tell me, how is it we meet on this night, instead of in a training field…got something to hide? "

She immediately knew what he thought: Traitor. He didn't know it was just her face she was hiding, he thought it was secrets. _Damn it all, why didn't you just go to command, Noel? A photo would have explained it all, then we could have both become rats in the woodwork and avoided each other. _She thumbed the cell in her pocket with the single button code to Hope that said_: Get me out, like yesterday. My cover is blown._ She prayed it wouldn't be blocked and simply waited.

Noel frowned, as this was not typical mole or spy behavior. Any traitor would be trying to prove she was harmless, she was who she was. This one simply stood her ground and didn't give an inch. _She must know her game is up; I should just arrest her & be done with it. But she might be impossible to take without killing her, if her mission is that important. But I'll try. _

He drew his own gunsaber, and immediately the group in the benches drew theirs and pointed at the lone figure in Corps trainee duns. She ever so slowly drew her own gunsaber off her shoulders and even more slowly set it on the ground; Noel barked, the whiplash of command in his voice: "Hands up & on your head." He slowly walked forward to see what all the fuss was about; a lovely face came into view, silver haired, a slim elegant figure; the pointed little cat chin stood firm without a quiver; the hair was no longer ice pink, but milk white strands that fell in long soft spikes, an outrageous expensive asymmetrical cut grown out for a year; the eyes finally looked up at him, a shade of crystal aqua blue azure he thought he'd never see again in his life. As he stood there stunned, gazing at the face of one Lightning Farron, she demurely cast her lids down and sweetly commented: " Nice gunsaber."

Then everything went to shite for Noel; he fell for it and had looked at the weapon, eyes off of her for a bare two seconds; in that two seconds she had grabbed the saber, and shoved the hilt into his throat, knocking the breath out of him; she expertly twirled it from his grip & pointed at him, the point breaking his skin, a thin line of red trickling from the slight puncture wound down his neck into his shirt.

"Well. Now you know. Are you going to call off the dogs, or are you going to let them tear me to bits? It may not fly you know, if it turns out I was just a baste from your past you didn't fancy." She was sure her words carried to the first rows, & hoped weapons would be lowered in doubt.

" I wouldn't baste you even if you were the last woman on this planet, Lightning Farron;…all Farrons are faithless whores." His voice shook, visibly enraged, and just itching to get his hands on his own gunsaber again.

"I don't know anyone named Lightning, Sergeant Kriess. I am just Trainee Claire Farron. " She let her stare become icy, then rather pissed herself, she spoke mockingly, as if she were a socialite recalling a chance meeting during an afternoon tea. "Oh, yes…wait…I remember. There was a Lightning I met, a foolish creature, I recall… a Valkrie of the infamous Valhalla who tried to save someone . She died. What were those words she said before I killed her? So many people die every day, don't they? Oh yes, I recall it now: She asked to remember what she said as she died: Please. Let me die. I offered all I had to someone but I had no skills, no connections, no breeding, no inheritance. Never forget that. It's all I have of him."

Noel blanched, his face sickly under the lights as he remembered it all: Serah, Snow, Lightning carrying him out of Valhalla, an explosive night of passion and nuclear bomb of an argument afterwards. He grew angrier by the minute, then burst out: "Lightning's dead!? Weelll. I see a bit of an imbalance here…Claire!" he sarcastically whipped back at her.

The trainees in the first row suddenly got it; one had remembered Valhalla in Academia, and had remembered the ungodly sexy notorious Lightning, the Valkyrie. The word spread like wildfire through the arena that the woman was her - There had been a huge outcry at first, she had been the city's scandal and secret delight for an entire 6 weeks in the gossip columns and blogs, then it had been hushed up just as suddenly. They assumed she'd been silenced by the imperate or the crime lords…and here she was, staring down a weapons master like he was a worthless worm….and with how red his face was, it looked like Kriess knew who she was! Relieved and immensely interested, they started to put up their weapons , then sat down to enjoy the fireworks in the arena. It promised to be a humdinger of a fight, a legend in the making; Emado started taking bets, and soon everyone was a messy crowd replete with tobacco, loud horseplay, liquor and noise.

Lightning never looked more innocent as she sweetly, sarcastically replied with the classic taunt in the ancient language of war: "Molon Labe.1"

Noel dove for the dropped gunsaber & they were at it like two desert wildcats in a trice; he wished he'd had his own gunsaber, but anything would do. It was a well matched fight, and soon the gunsabers were thrown aside as the fight devolved into an all-out brawl; Lightning had a wicked right hook, but Noel had a stronger arm & nearly had her pinned more than once; but that is where Lightning shone; she was more flexible than Noel, and got away more than once by simply bending with the flow of energy; she landed a good kick once, dropping him in the dust; he laid her out with a nasty desert boy's throw, not taught in any class of his. She gasped as she went flying several feet and skidded in the dust, scraped all the way down one arm; it began to bleed, staining the dirt on her arm nearly black; it began to seem like cruelty now, her eyes hunted and sparking with pain. But he never gave up, he wanted to grind her down into the ground and walk away, his pride demanded it.

But she refused to go down; she kept up a solid defense, even after a second throw into the wall that had obviously taken the breath out of her; she turned her head and spat, but no one noticed the blood mixed in with the saliva as the greedy dust sucked it in the arena floor. She became more cautious of Noel's long reach after that; he in turn became a bit more careless, then found himself tumbling to the ground, her legs sweeping his in a clever dive; he thought he had her when they rolled together, wrestling for a hold; his legs had wrapped around her neck, but he let go with a strangled yelp as teeth sank in a tender inner thigh; she twisted the leg hard, scrambled to her feet and applied pressure, flooding his leg with mind-numbing pain; he sank his hands in the dirt of the arena floor and pulled himself forward by brute strength, muscles in his back rippling, to release the pressure; she in turn, viciously grasped the ankle with both hands , twisted it hard until he screamed and started to drag him forward a good 12 feet, then dropped him like he was nothing, reaching for a gunsaber as he writhed helplessly in the dirt, trying to regain his stance with one limping leg. She actually had the gunsaber in her hands as he attacked; he furiously yanked at her wrists trying to shake her grip loose of the weapon, but again, she hung on, her head snapping back & forth with the force as he dragged her back to the center of the arena to finish her off one way or another; it was no longer an officer disciplining a trainee, it was personal. The arena was a strained silence, the trainees now frightened, beginning to murmur protests, but all was stopped as the doors crashed open and the commander of the base strode through bellowing: "HOLD!" at the top of his lungs.

"Stand down! Stand DOWN! Both of you! At once! Kriess, don't make me repeat myself!"

Noel abruptly let go and let Lightning drop to the ground; she lay there stunned for a moment, then slowly rolled to her feet, swaying and using the gunsaber for support to keep her upright. Security Corps surrounded the pair and marched them off; a second sergeant at arms stayed to bark orders at the trainees and berate them for not stopping the fight. Reports were gathered and delivered to the commander's office within the hour.

1 Molon Labe: Greek **μολὼν λαβέ; **means "Come and take". It is a classical expression of defiance reportedly spoken by King Leonidas I in response to the Persian army's demand that the Spartans surrender their weapons at the Battle of Thermopylae.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

Commander Dardenne was pissed; he had gotten a call from the director of the Academy, no less, on a Friday night when he should be enjoying a steak and his favorite girl. "Kriess, I don't care how many trainees you baste over in your off time, but if you step into House Imperate business, you are over the basting line! I'll deal with you tomorrow, I am so pissed right now! Trainee Farron, I expected better of you! Letting yourself get into a fight with a sergeant is insubordinate! Throw them both in the cube to cool off for a day!"

They were stripped then pushed into the cube, a large holding cell with no windows, no bed, no toilet, just 6 sides covered with cool impermeable metal, a single unbreakable light panel in the ceiling on an auto timer and a seven inch hole in the corner for the obvious. They stopped letting clothed prisoners in after one had strangled another with his shirt; plus the mental aspect of being naked was a good mental disciplinary tool for the commander – _nothing like a little humility at your humanity to bring a body back to ground._ The door sealed shut, and they were left alone with the enemy and their thoughts.

Noel slowly collapsed, panting against the floor, as the fight injuries started to take their toll on his body; he had to have pulled leg tendons, his nose was broken, an eyebrow was swelling from a split and the bite stung his thigh; his muscles trembled with exhaustion, but he tried to calm himself before trying any self healing. Magic was a tool to be used in the Corps, everyone had classes in the basics of self healing; but after this fight, his mind would not center and cease its internal strife. He heard Lightning breathing hard, almost gasping with each intake of breath and he was fiercely happy that she was hurting like he was; he was wondering : _What in the hell was Farron doing to be in so deep already with the Imperate house and the Academy – maybe the jade called in a favor from a client? It would explain the necklace, too…but then, it was as if commander Dardenne spoke to her as if she were one of __them__, not a servant of the ruling class. What the hell is going on here now?...Oh Etro, that leg pin hurt! Where the baste did she learn that?_

He felt his labored breathing ease, so he spoke the words of will and let the self healing spell go to work while he drifted off in a haze. He wryly smiled as he heard his enemy stifling painful moans as she dragged her body across the floor to the hole in the corner to retch, thinking: _Yeah…suffer you bitching jade. I'll enjoy your tears some more later. _

Noel's healing sleep was interrupted by a cough. Not a polite dainty ladylike sound to get his attention, but a deep rattle that bespoke deep pain and injury. The cough was followed by choking and more retching with a flat metallic smell; Noel's nostrils twitched in recognition at the scent of blood; _Etro, she must be bleeding pretty heavily….good. Now you feel what I felt. Suffer, bitch. Suffer for your sister, too._

A dry husk of a voice was recitingEtro's script:"….Walker of the Realm Unseen, By grace of Etro, let thunder herald your arrival. Come forth, sunderer of falsehood. You died for me, the divine one born of light, you were crucified and made to walk the realm of the dead, and now let me die for you. A name in blood, a pact of truth. I shall rise your bond eternal and unyielding..."

The voice faltered after another fit of coughing, the voice now dropping to a ragged whisper: " Lady, forgive me. I never tried to reach your Eden; I felt you when I was with him…yet I never told him I loved him. My fault he got hurt. Forgive me for loving Serah too much. Teach her, since I failed to teach, I failed to be my mother…my father…for her. Thank you for Hope, tell the brother of my soul I will see him again, he saved me…forgive me all the things I have left undone …"

"I hope she leaves your soul to rot on the sands of time for the shite you and your sister put me through, you bitch."

She mumbled, panting the words out one at a time: "No…Noh..el. I. Can't. Heal. Please. Lemmedieinpeace. Or heal. Please."

"Lightning Claire Farron, go to the wall ask it for comfort. You'll get no healing from me. Go hang on Etro's cross for all I basting care."

He awoke some hours later, fairly refreshed; his leg was a bit sore, but it would go away by tomorrow. He was still hot over the fight and his thirst for hearing and seeing her pain was still present ; his anticipation soon turned to puzzlement as he did not hear the moans or tears he expected. It was ominously silent, so he opened his eyes & sat up to look around. She was in the corner still by the hole, but still…so still…he felt a slow fear crawl up his spine, knowing there was something far more wrong than just the aftermath of a brawl. He carefully approached and saw a figure so still, it looked as if she were…dead. He held a hand above her mouth and nose and felt the barest breath of air movement; she was still breathing, but shallowly.

The face was white as her silver hair under the pale gold skin; she was only half healed, the bruises still purple, the wrist still swollen with a break, her mouth still smeared with the dried blood she had retched; his spirit sank as he realized she had been injured internally and had been bleeding from the inside during the fight and after. With a sick feeling in his stomach, he recalled the throw that sent her skidding into the arena wall; he remembered the kick to her kidneys and his calloused fists slamming into her ribs, then shaking her like a rag doll in fury. And she had not complained once or stopped the fight, she had let him take out his rage on her. What kind of a person would let him do that? _Somebody that would do anything to get through to you,_ a voice whispered in him.

The gentle voice continued to prod at the edges of his awareness, more insistent, gathering strength with each word: _What has she done to earn your wrath, shadow hunter? Do you not recall your prayer? Here, listen: … just basting love me tonight, so I don't pick up that blade & slice my throat open with it…_

Abruptly his anger broke & he was deeply ashamed; she was badly injured because of him; so he carefully gathered her up, set her head on his lap and spoke the words of will in his head and let his hands stay on her forehead and heart as the healing began to pull the damages out of her body, knitting broken bones and bruised flesh; with each spot that healed, he became more and more ashamed until he cried out to Etro, a prayer he'd forgotten: "Etro, do as you will, but goddess hear me! She's hurt, all because of me – I don't know how to even begin to ask to be forgiven. Help me, help her. Please, goddess." The same whisper nudged in the back of his mind; a cool friendly voice, small and still answered: _Anything is forgiven in the name of love. Remember this, though: You are made with chaos and light, what wins is the one you feed. Do you see which one you've been feeding? You should not refuse what I offer; after all, I sent you to her…twice. _The small voice ended on a lightly amused note:_ Three times is a charm. The oracle is over, Noel Kriess._

Drained, he laid his head against the cool metal wall and drifted off again, softly stroking the silky hair tenderly. No, he wouldn't waste a chance again. He became alert once she stirred in his lap & puzzled, felt her face, then looked up through a tangle of hair and dirty face with the same crystal blue eyes he remembered. She didn't question why she was lying in the lap of a naked man staring at her with anxious ocean blue eyes, tears streaks visible through the dirt.

"I…I dreamed of Etro…how long have I been out?"

"A while…I think we've been in here about 8 hours now. Um. You were only half healed, so I finished. How's the gut now?"

She rolled herself off him slowly, felt cautiously and nodded her head. "Better." She took a breath and decided to just give it to him straight: "Look. Just listen before you shut me down and kick my ass again. I didn't know you were Corps until the orientation. I thought the class was big enough, the time had passed and I would just simply fly under the radar so to speak. I had no idea you still felt that angry, or I'd have simply gone to command and asked for an order of separation. "

She turned away and sat with her back to him for several minutes, then quietly spoke again:

"I guess you're wondering how the hell I ended up here in Corps. After you left, I realized what you said was true, horribly true: I had no skills, no inheritance, no breeding, no connections. So went to get myself some, so I'd be…useful…at least to someone, somewhere. You saw what I was…useless. I can see why you refused my offer. It was totally unrealistic of me to think you'd even consider me. But I'm not the same Lightning, Valkyrie of Valhalla you knew…or maybe, as Hope says, becoming more of the good bits of what I had to begin with. He found my family line, got me to re-apply to Corps, and was enough of a friend to network me into some connections. And so, here I am. - Just a trainee with some extra grooming for a career."

Noel digested this in silence; Lightning now observed him, noticing how the boyish hollows were now starting to fill out with lean muscle, veins cording the slim arms; his hair still flopped over one eye and waved like brown silk, but was spiked with dried sweat and dirt on the ends; she suddenly wanted to run her hand through it and lay her head on that strong shoulder, she was simply so tired; it must have been that fight, the tension of ducking and hiding at every turn over the last week. He sighed, then spoke in reply: "You…you didn't dream Etro. She was here. I had an oracle while I was trying to heal you – you were bleeding internally. I got reminded about something." He laughed shortly. "Third time's a charm."

"Ohhh, Etro, I have no idea where to begin this conversation. So, what do I call you now? Claire? Lightning? That was some fight…I had no idea you had it in you, but then I should have known – I'd forgotten how you took out that one creep at Valhalla. You were...magnificent; you know, it sounds stupidly boyish, but I felt I was sent there just for you. I'll never forget that dive off the roof, how you just went with it and…I…we…hung in the goddess' hand, so to speak. Then I get to protect Serah & fell in love with an image, a dream. Well, that was chance number one blown. Chance number two? I had no idea how my words that morning would change your life; do you think just because I spoke in rage it was absolute truth? You think it made me happy?"

"Wasn't it? Didn't it? You got what you paid for that night & more: at least one of us was happy."

He spoke so softly and gently it caught her heart: "No, Claire. It does not."

" I…came back…that night. You were gone. You have no idea what you did to me. You were everything I needed, wanted. Serah was…nothing compared to you. Nothing has compared to you. So I spent the last year trying to put it behind me. I spent my life waiting, asking Etro for an answer, and she threw me into your path, and what do I do? I threw it away, because it didn't come to me the way I thought it should. Now here you are, thrown by Etro herself into my path again. "

"Now it's my time to lay it on the table…I'm not blowing my last chance. I have no idea of how I'm going to do this, but I'm not letting you leave or myself leave until this gets figured out, and what it means…to you, to me, to Etro. Consider that...please consider that."

They simply looked at each other, propped up by the smooth metal walls like cast aside rag dolls until Etro gently nudged; hands crept out and met, intertwining fingers. It wasn't the romantic moment the world thinks of, but it was enough for both of them. They had all the time in the world now to get it right. The hard part was over.

When they were let out of the cooling cube, everyone was astounded into silence as he carefully escorted her like she was royalty to the showers, protectively holding her under his arm; when she nearly passed out from weakness walking down the corridor, open mouths & raised eyebrows followed them as he carried her to the commander's office & kicked the door shut , for once unmindful of gossip.

"Kriess, do you have any idea of who you were beating crap out of in your personal vendetta? Your ex-girlfriend done you wrong, was she? A spy? You Etro-basting idiot, Trainee Farron is House Imperate, the real deal! She's no spy from PSICorp!"

"She told me. All of it. Discipline me as you see fit. But you need to do something before you kick me out of Corps. "

"Who says you're even worth kicking out of Corps? And what favor are you calling in now?" Dardenne mentally ran over the list of favors outstanding & decided he'd give in, but not before a good public noise was made for form's sake. He'd heard & just seen how Kriess had done a 180 in attitude and figured the pair had hashed out their past, just as the director had predicted would happen. He really liked Kriess, it was out of character to have broken rules like this, but seeing the beauty in front of him, he could see why a man could go a little crazy.

"You've got the authority to join us. So, join …us."

Dardenne swiveled to Trainee Farron:"You agree to this? You know your status has protocols, right? "

"Yes. We'll go through the formal process once we're in Academia. It is acceptable to the director. I doubt the House will disapprove with his backing."

"When? You want a ceremony?"

"Now. And no."

"Ahem. Stand. Join hands. According to the laws of Pulse & Guardian Corps I am herby investing myself with authority as officiating officer to join you in the goddess' sight as two with one heart, one mind. The names Noel Kriess and Claire Farron will be written in the book of Etro at the temple as joined for all to witness. If either have any objection or condition to voice, please state it now. I see. No conditions, you both agree? Please say I agree. Well. You are now joined. "

Dardenne pulled out a bottle from his drawer and nodded to the coffee cups, then poured a splash in each for a traditional toast.

" I confess, I don't understand the sudden turnaround in both your attitudes, but it does change the disciplinary action somewhat. Kriess, you must apologize to your class for setting a bad example & striking a trainee on personal grounds. Farron, you must also apologize to the class for setting a bad example as a member of the House Imperate and striking an officer. Oh, and you're both fined a week's pay. A bottle of desert rum to your commander will ease the paperwork fee as well."

Their public apologies were received with a few hoots and whistles and smattering of applause, as they all thought it was a hell of a fight, despite the personal disagreement. Claire didn't lack for partners during class and things seem to smooth over between her & the sergeant, though he growled a bit when someone got a little too forward with their attentions; they put it down to her potential status. Once off duty, he found himself knocking on her door and walking her to the hangar roof to sit and talk. The roof was his getaway, he had watched sunsets alone or with Dardenne, idly chatting about the day. He didn't know what he was going to say, but figured it might set the scene for making things easier between them. They quietly sat side by side kicking their feet off the edge and told their stories to each other in bits and pieces as nature went through its nightly show, the dust settling in successive veils of gold, then apricot, mandarin, darkening into tourmaline, then dusky blue grey as the sun set into the horizon.

Lightning was somehow comforted, it reminded her of Hope and found herself thinking he'd have felt comfortable sitting here too with Noel. She had studied his clean profile more than once in the fading light, and still found it just as beautiful as the first time she had seen it in the glowing lights of the Valhalla so long ago. They caught each other smiling at the other, then each looked down and laughed quietly before gaining the courage to take a hand; and so they sat on their wedding night, shyly holding hands like two people on a first date, getting to know the person they wanted most in their life. It was strange, but it suited both of them; they didn't feel any need to put on a huge display of passion; they both knew what they were capable of, and in time, it might happen again; but right now, just sitting next to each other after all the insanity in the last year was enough.

"So….how do you feel about meeting here off duty for a while? Like tomorrow?"

Lightning was puzzled why he didn't steer her to his bed, as it was their wedding night, in a way; she cleared her throat and asked: "Do you want it this …way? I liked tonight, yes, but I don't know what direction to take now; can you tell me what you…want?"

"I thought I made it clear: You, and no other." Seeing the guarded look on her face he softly continued: "It might take some time for me to figure this out – all I know right now is that I'm supposed to be with you, but why…how, and what form that takes is still, well, a mystery to me. "

Ever so slowly, he allowed himself to say it out loud: "By all means, sharing a bed even once more is always the hope of any blooded man…I'm no different; I just want you to come to me when you feel it's the right time and not a minute before."

His voice dropped to the nadir of his throat as he admitted: "There is a right time, a right place and a right person for all things; be patient and wait for all three; then you will see how much I love thee…"

Lightning looked at him with a respect in her eyes she had never expressed before, then ever so slowly, laid her head on his shoulder; her voice was so low he could barely hear it: "Noel Kriess, if there ever were a right time, it'd be tonight."

They both carefully, slowly walked back to his quarters with no outward sign of tenderness, but the unspoken thing between them vibrated with a singular intensity; they flowed through doorways and halls like water, but somehow a hyperawareness of each other always stayed present, even when in conversation with other people; he knew exactly where she was in the room without looking around; she felt the invisible pull when he ran a hand through his hair, or shook someone's hand in parting.

Finally, they were standing in a room alone, the door just having shut to his quarters; she felt hands pull her to him in the dimly lit space then reverently, soft lips pressed against her forehead after tenderly brushing the icy hair away. That first tender physical touch sent the invisible vibration pulsing from her forehead down to her toes; but she was so exhausted she could do no more than lay against the warm body as he gathered her to him, then knelt on the floor to lay her down on the cool bed after he'd divested them of their clothing. They didn't consummate their joining in the usual way, but simply laid there against each other with a secret smile reflected in each other's eyes, occasionally lifting a hand to trace a line of the body that fascinated them, or slowly intertwine more closely, until they were skin to skin as Etro blessed them with a deep slumber, filled with nothing but the sound of each other's hearts beating.

Three weeks later found them standing at the transport deck waiting to be assigned seats on the ship back to Academia. The vibration of the invisible tension was still between them, perhaps even more so for Lightning. Noel had shared his bed with her every night after, but simply had not initiated anything past the normal intimacies of a roommate, or the most tender kiss on a hand or forehead goodnight. Of course, he held her when they were sleeping, rarely wore any night clothing, engaged in any number of of light horseplaying games with her, so she knew all parts were in working order. It was starting to make her feel, if it could be said so, deprived. Occasionally the memory of their one and only night together would flare up in her memory and she'd be sitting there, eyes half closed, just wishing he'd reach out once more like that and hold her closer just one second more than what was necessary, or wrap his full lips around her finger and look at her with that innocently sexy look just once more. She certainly didn't want to make a demand for intimacy, when he was clearly not giving her any signs he wanted that same level of intimacy himself. She had heard his words about waiting for her to say to come to him when the time was right, but she herself was puzzled; she had been open in her embraces & acceptance of his physical presence, why didn't he just move forward and get down to it, like any other man?

She found the oddest moments somehow erotic, like when he was lacing his leather bracelet up his arm, the veins clearly throbbing when she tied it off for him; his breath on the back of her neck late at night; she would press herself into him closer and nestle with a small movement of hips that never failed to bring a hand to her hip, even when in deep sleep. Night after night he would simply lie there, simply letting a hand graze her one or twice, quietly letting his eyes speak, or closing them pleasurably as he stretched luxuriously out on the carpet or bed while listening to music or rain falling.

Even the sight of him leaning up against the wall, waiting for her after duty, was a painfully exciting moment, the lean body flexing in the leather jeans she'd bought him. She gave the excuse he needed a pair to ride the 'cycle, leather held up better than anything else to road rash, but the truth was she thought if he wore something a little sensual, it might get him to think in a more intimate direction. They fit closely, but had far more flexibility than the standard material; they sat lower on his hips and when the rough brown was paired with a favorite t shirt and nomad's wrapped arm bracelet he looked sinfully handsome to her eyes.

She had tried to encourage a gentle session of foreplay when she helped put them on for the first time, subtly caressing his legs & waist as she reached around & slowly buttoned the waistband; the glance had been decidedly warmer than usual; but he'd done no more than accept the caresses.

Tonight they'd met other off duty Corps at a bar, and the number of flirting glances he received certainly surprised him. It was amateur night at Valhalla, and scads of scantily clad women and men tried their hand at dancing like the bar staff; some were hoping to get noticed by Lexis and get a job, others simply were exhibitionists, some did it for fun to say they had, and get the free drink Valhalla promised if they managed to get through an entire song and not get booted off the stage or fall off the poles. The ladies especially liked the men's part, it always brought in good business, and all the ladies in bar would cheer the ones brave enough to get up there and try their hand, then buy enormous amounts of intoxicants afterwards.

Several of the men in the Corps group decided to attract females or were already loose enough to not care what they did as long as it was a good idea at the time; Noel had never been in on a night like this, and it gave him ideas…in fact, a lot of ideas. He was aching inside for Lightning, she'd not come to him as he'd hoped, though there were moments where he felt she was starting to reach out. And now, she was looking at someone else; she had been surrounded by regulars who remembered her and were not shy about putting themselves forward as potential partner; some were not only complimenting her, but reaching out and touching her, elbowing Noel aside like he was still the guardian. He tolerated all this for about an hour, then slowly felt he was being left out, pushed away from her.

Emado, Teren, and Mikel were on the stage already, shaking their backsides, flexing muscles as they swung from the poles, grinning and eating up the attention, along with the other men who'd jumped up and were also spinning and contorting on the poles. One powerfully built specimen with a Corps tattoo on his lower back was practically having sex with the pole and the floor, humping and gyrating to the music; the attention he was given was intense, and it spurred Noel's idea to be morphed into concrete action.

Before anyone noticed, he hopped on the stage himself & gave at test swing from the pole left open in the back on the end; it held his weight, and he started to move; he was able to spin quickly with a snap that got attention, then rocked his hips to the slow throbbing beat while holding the pole over his head for balance; a vocal track overlaid the music, an oddly sexy echo of his own dilemma: …_What' s it gonna be, babe? Him or me?... _ He took a page from Lightning's book of performance and kept his moves a bit slower, deliberate; he felt a warm glow of excitement when he heard the gasps as he sank down in a sensually arching backbend, his shoulder pushed into the pole for balance; he stopped when his torso was level and pushed his hips in the strong undulations of nomad tribal dance for a few seconds before sinking all the way down to the ground. …_Don't my body please you right?..._By the time he'd got himself back on his feet, quite a crowd of ladies were staring at him & screaming encouragement; he glanced over at Lightning, and she was stock still, her eyes widened and her lips were moving in the silent words he knew so well_:"…Oh my basting Etro.._" He shook his hair out of his eyes, his face somehow lit with a wicked amusement; she was reminded of the innocent demon who looked up at her so long ago silently begging her to come to him. Now that he had her attention, he slowly pulled his shirt off one-handed to expose the bronzed sculpted torso, then casually whipped it around the pole & spun with a snap again presenting himself as her helpless slave, hands tied to the pole, and sank down again, rocking his hips to the beat, then worked his way back up; _…you know I'll plead until the morning light…_he finished with a move he'd remembered Lightning doing; he shimmed up a couple of hand over hands, then took the pole in a strong grasp held him off the pole as he spun around in slow motion; his legs were slightly spread, but not split out like a wafter as he arched his back and tilted his face up to the ceiling; it was more meant to show off the muscles of his back and the lean perfection of his build; he then spiraled his way down to the floor with a casual leg hooked around the pole , looking for her face every time he turned and holding his hand out to her, as if he were begging her to just come with him, leading her to him, only him. The music crescendoed with the screaming vocals …_Don't my lovin' please you right, all night? So tell me baby, who's it gonna be? It is him or is it me? 'Cause I want YOU! YES I DO! Tell me whatcha want! It's gotta be me!..._ The sexy demon who went by the name of Noel Kriess now dropped to his knees, and unabashedly moved everything he had in a totally indecent expression of sensual intoxicationuntil the music ended, then laid there, panting on the floor, looking straight at her.

She was completely stunned and seemed to become nothing but all eyes; it hit her, and hit her hard that he was the most incredible man of her acquaintance…no one she'd ever known had ever displayed such a depth of passion with such a clean uncluttered directness; in fact, she couldn't see anyone else in her life that could compare to him as a man, except for Hope, and Hope was her own blood. She felt the invisible tension wire always in the undercurrent of her mind snap up to the conscious & pull roughly at her psyche.

Of course ,a few intoxicated guests were more than willing to offer themselves and he was rather impolitely pawed as he put his shirt back on; he was about to simply exit to the back, where he knew he could make his way through the small maze of hallways backstage and get back to the bar floor, but he heard one girl yelp in pain as hair was grabbed and her hands with their new manicure fell off his ab muscles; he looked up to see Lightning looking disgustedly at the creature who was currently being held by the nose; she sweetly smiled and said: "Corps takes care of its own, girl. Drift." "I was here first, you basting jade!" "Nope. He came with me, and he's leaving with…me. Get it? We're joined, you little skank. "

She protectively put an arm around him, gave him a sidelong glance before pulling him closer, which certainly made a few of the ladies groan in disappointment. "That was some show, Noel. What did I miss in that resume of yours? Ever work as Noel the Nomad in some desert cantina? " She grinned and bumped his hip as they pushed their way back through the crowd to the table , where the waitress was waiting with the free drinks for the boys. Noel wished she'd have just stopped in the crowd for a second; he wanted to tell her he wanted her, but instead sighed as if disappointed, which Lightning caught, and her heart sank a bit, thinking he'd have rather been with someone else. _…Maybe if I get him alone and just kiss him, he'll open up?_

They clinked glasses, then paid their bar tab, and arm in arm, made their way to the exit. Lightning wickedly let a hand slide down from a hip, briefly resting it on a well-muscled backside & looked back at the waitress & winked as they left, bringing a complicit grin to the merry face that had ogled him shamelessly during the evening. At least someone understood.

When they were clear of the entrance and walking down the alley to the next block over, she boldly pulled him to her, and leisurely took possession of his mouth in a soft but clearly sensual kiss; almost shocked she felt his body tremble with a suppressed emotion before returning the kiss, also leisurely, an almost precise imitation of hers. He simply waited after that, holding her in his arms, not quite letting her go, a delicate shiver of emotion, almost like eagerness setting his body lightly trembling against hers again. However, he made no further move, and now really saddened and disappointed, she slid out of his careful embrace and began to walk on.

Suddenly she stopped and turned around and started to walk back to Valhalla. "Noel…go on and go home. I think I'll stay out a while longer, ok?"

"I'll go back with you. I'm not tired, Light. You want to go someplace with more action? "

"You might say that, yeah. I do. " she stopped and sighed. "Look, Noel, I don't think you should come with me. Just- …just go home."

"Hey, what? Why? What are you going to do alone?" Noel's heart plummeted; he was being written off. He thought he'd won her…but he'd still failed. _Baby, who's it gonna be? 'Cause it's not me!_ "Don't tell me you're going in there to strip again! You're..you're going back there for another man, aren't you! Why? _Why_, for Etro's sake?"

Lightning sighed herself, and looked at her reluctant partner, her own measured calm tones cracking with pent up frustration: "Look, I just don't think this is going to work for us. I've done everything to let you know I'd like to get closer, but you…it's like you don't want to go _past_ 'go' with me, you know? All I'm getting is signals…hell, what I am talking about? That's just it – I'm not getting any signals that tell me you want to be closer! And then you get up and pull that act of being the hottest man in the bar looking for some tail in the room, like you had a holo sign over your head saying 'girls, I'm available, the line starts here!'"

Noel laughed at that last sentence; he suddenly realized she'd been just as overly polite in her own customs as he had been; now, he decided to just spill it out, no matter how stupid or naïve he might look:

"Light, I did it for you. I wanted you to notice me…want me. Want me enough to get closer. Want me so much you'd rip my clothes off and make love to me all night long. I didn't know what else to do!"

"I…Lightning…you were the first. I never was with a woman before you. " He raised his head and gave her a straight look and shrugged. " Yes. I waited. I was a virgin, for lack of a better word. Shocking? Yep. I see it on your face. What did you expect? I am Nomad. It's part of the culture. You wait for the right moment, the right person, not the moment right-now, or the right-now person. I was waiting for Serah…but then…I gave it to you. It _was_ the right moment; you _are_ the right person."

"The truth is, I don't know how it should go. That night, I just…went on faith. Instinct. Imagination. Imitation. I have no idea if I can give you the same experience, or even please you again. Tonight…I just wanted to make it clear I wanted you…really wanted you. I was hoping you could lead on this one."

Suddenly he was assaulted by a feminine form & his arms were filled with the warm living flesh of a woman who was grabbing his face & lightly, wildly, feverently, adoringly, covering it with kisses; Nearly rapturous at finally bringing down the barriers between them, he laughed as he shook his face clear, looking at her in amazement. She tilted her head, then told him: "I'll tell you the secret of how it goes: There are no rules in love."

Then leaning forward, she ever so delicately whispered in his ear: "Now, take a bite of me, lover…show me your teeth..I dare you."

Then Noel was on her, insanely pulling her into him and lifting her up as he fell back into the brick wall ; no more careful caresses here , but raw scorching passion that lit them both on fire within moments of the contact; somehow her skirt was hiked up around her waist by the time the first kiss was finished and his buckle was dangling open with the leathers sitting far lower on his hips when he came up gasping for air after the second kiss, which could have been considered a mouth rape, had it not been for the fact that one cannot rape the willing; impatient, she tore her own scrap of underwear off as he reached down behind her knees and lifted as she hung onto him; she welcomed the first eager thrust into her, her legs decadently spread wide as he leaned back farther against the wall and let his strong body express exactly how much _he _wanted, _he_ desired, _he_ loved her, and how little he gave a damn about what anyone thought in this wild moment of ecstasy; a totally irrational moment of romance passed between them as they both felt the thump of the music coming from the wall and shyly smiled at each other when they both started to move in time with the heavy beat and throb of the bass and drums; then suddenly it felt familiar, perfectly natural; he felt his body carry him along the new currents of pleasure, and somehow excited as hell, delighted, and tender all at once, he gave her everything of himself, just another lover caught in the act on a Saturday night, and perhaps, had anyone noticed, just another line of scandalous gossip to be read at the city's leisure in the morning light: Lady E'Claire Farron Kriess and her Sergeant Noel Kriess caught making violent love outside the bar where they met.

And of course Etro laughed at the sight of two of her most beautiful children offering up their love as worship to her in the stunningly passionate , touching, enthusiastic, yet slightly inept display that humanity is wont to.


End file.
